■mM^^^ 


'r9.^* 


4.     '•.»   .•>  *  ■ 


THE     TATLEE. 

SELECTED    ESSAYS. 


THE   ''CHANDOS    CLASSICSr 


THE     TATLEE. 


SELECTED    ESSAYS. 


WITH 


AN  IKTRODUCTIOX   AJSD    NOTES. 


BY 


ALEX.    CHARLES    EWALD,    F.S.A. 

ATTHOR   OF   "STORIES   FROM   THE  STATE   PAPERS,"   ETC. 


FREDERICK     WARNE     AND     CO. 

1888. 


LONDON : 
BRADBURY,   AGNEW     &  CO.,   PRINTERS,   WHITEFRIARS. 


PEE  FACE. 


9  4^ 

t 


It  seems  strange  in  tliese  clays  of  ''Extracts"  and 
"  Selections"  that  the  Volumes  of  the  "  Tatler  "  should 
never  have  engaged  the  attention  of  an  Editor  to  lay  its 
gems  under  contribution.  Though  not  enjojdng  the 
popularity  of  its  more  famous  successor,  the  "  Spectator," 
there  are  yet  in  its  pages  Essays  which,  for  humour, 
wit,  charms  of  style  and  knowledge  of  human  nature,  are 
as  deserving  of  study  and  perusal  as  any  in  the  English 
language.  Nor  as  contributions  to  the  history  of  the 
period  are  they  less  worthy  of  attention.  Politics,  fashion, 
literature,  the  tastes  and  prejudices  of  the  day  are  all  there 
to  be  met  with,  and  shed  a  light  upon  the  reign  of  Queen 
Anne  not  reflected  elsewhere.  Yet  the  "  Tatler  "  is  pre- 
eminently one  of  those  works  on  the  shelves  of  our 
literature  which  are  often  spoken  of,  occasionally  quoted, 
and  never  read.  This  neglect  no  doubt  arises  from  the 
mass  of  obsolete  and  uninteresting  matter  in  which  the 
readable  Essays  are  so  embedded  as  to  be  practically 
smothered.  The  work  therefore  lends  itself  especially  to 
the   scheme   of  selection.      In   the   following  pages  the 


iu;c;»>QAi> 


iv  mEFACE. 

Editor  has  been  guided  and  controlled  by  the  same  rules 
and  restrictions  which  he  laid  down  when  preparing  the 
*'  Spectator"  for  this  series.  It  is  hoped  that  his  selec- 
tions from  the  "  Tatler"  will  fill  up  a  gap  in  our  popular 
literature,  and  meet  with  as  favourable  a  reception  as 
their  companion  volume. 

A.  C.  E. 
London,  ^i/c/y,  1888. 


ESSAYS  SELECTED  FROM  THE   '^  TATLER." 


No. 


Date 


Sul.ject. 


1 

4 
11 
19 
25 
35 
41 
42 
50 
51 
52 
53 
54 
56 
57 
58 
60 
61 

j> 

62 

6o 

66 

67 

71 

75 

77 

78 

79 

81 

83 

85 

86 


April  12,  1709 
,,     19,  1709 
May  5,  1709 
„   24,  1709 
June  7,  1709 
,,  30,  1709 
July  14,  1709 
„    16,  1709 
August  4,  1709 
,,      0,  1709 
,,      9,  1709 
,,      11,  1709 
,,      13,  1709 
,,      18,  1709 
,,      20,  1709 
,,      23,  1709 
,,      27,  1709 
„      30,  1709 

Sept.  1,  1709 
,,     8,  1709 
,,     10,  1709 
,,     13,  1709 
„     22,  1709 
October  1,  1709 
,,      6,  1709 
,,      8,  1709 
,,      11,  1709 
„      15,  1709 
„      20,  1709 
,,      25,  1709 
„       27,1709 


Introductory 

Two  Beauties   .... 
The  Staffs     .... 
An  Esquire       .... 
Duelling        .... 

{jfljiff    ' 

An  Exercise  of  Arms 

Theatrical  Property  . 

Orlando  the  Fair  . 

Orlando  the  Fair — coiitiiiucd     . 

Delaniira       .... 

The  Civil  Husband  . 

The  Dean  of  St.  Paul's  . 

The  Sharper      .... 

Harry  Coi^persmith 

Hard  AVords     .... 

ToniWildair 

Fellows  of  Fire 

Charms  of  Woman 

A  Pack  of  Swindlers 

Sharpers  at  Bath  . 

The  Clergy  and  their  Delivery  . 

A  Chamber  of  Fame 

The  Tatler's  Strictures 

Jenny  Distaff 

Valetudinarians 

Claimants  for  the  Table  of  Fame 

jMarriage  of  Jenny  Distaff 

A  Dream       .... 

Criticisms  on  the  "  Talde  of  Fame 

A  Matrimonial  Ouarrel 

Sir  Harry  Quickset  . 


33 
35 
36 

40 

43 

45 

47 

50 

53 

56 

58 

61 

65 

67 

71 

73 

75 

78 

80 

83 

85 

88 

92 

96 

99 

104 

107 

111 

115 

123 

127 
131 


VI 


ESSAYS    SELECTED    FKO:\I    THE    TATLEU. 


Xo. 

Date. 

Suliject. 

Page 

89 

Novembers,  1709 

1  A  Pastoral  Letter           .... 

i  134 

90 

,,          5,  1709    i  Love 

137 

91 

„          8,  1709    1  A  Top  Toast's  Visit       .... 

140 

92 

,,          10,  1709     False  Traise 

143 

95 

„          17,  1709  '  A  Mointor 

147 

96 

,,          19,  1709  1  Dead  Men 

152 

97 

,,          22,  1709  '  An  Allegory 

154 

100 

,,          29,  1709     A  Vision 

158 

102 

December  3,  1709     i  A  Yision— continued     .... 

164 

104 

,,         8,  1709        Mrs.  Tranquillus 

169 

108 

17,  1709 

Self- Respect 

173 

115 

Jan.  2,  1709-10 

Sir  Hannibal 

177 

.      116 

,,      5,  1709-10 

The  Petticoat 

179 

117 

,,      7,  1709-10 

Deliverance  from  Danger           .         .     . 

183 

118 

,,      10,  1709-10 

Peneloj)e  Prim      ..... 

187 

120 

„      14,  1709-10 

A  Dream  of  Human  Life  .        .         .     . 

189 

121 

„      17,  1709-10 

Pets 

194 

123 

,,      21,  1709-10 

A  Dream  of  Human  Life — continued 

198 

124 

,,      24,  1709-10 

A  Wheel  of  Chance        .... 

203 

126 

,,      28,  1709-10 

Prude  and  Coiiuettc 

207 

127 

„      31,  1709-10 

Pride 

211 

129 

Feb.  4,  1709-10 

Pasquin's  Letter       .         .... 

215 

130 

„     7,  1709-10 

The  Present  Age 

219 

131 
>^32 

,,     9,  1709-10 

Adulteration  of  Wines      .         .         .     . 

223 

,,     11,  1709-10 

Our  Club 

227 

133 

„     14,  1709-10 

On  Silence 

232 

134 

„     16,  1709-10 

Cruelty  to  Animals        .... 

235 

135 

„     18,  1709-10 

Minute  Philosophers         .         ... 

239 

136 

,,     21,  1709-10 

Tom  Varnish 

244 

137 

,,     23,  1709-10 

Excrescences  of  Discourse          .         .     . 

246 

139 

,,     28,  1709-10 

Imaginary  Pre-eminence 

249 

20* 

March  G,  1709-10 

Misplaced  Attentions         .         .         .     . 

253 

144 

,,      11,  1709-10 

Equipages     ...... 

256 

145 

,,      14,  1709-10 

The  Oglers 

260 

146 

„      16,  1709-10 

The  Complaincrs  .... 

263 

148 

,,      21,  1709-10 

Kickshaws         ...... 

268 

149 

„      23,  1709-10 

Private  Tyrants 

271 

151 

,,      28,  1710 

Beauty  Unadoi-ned   ..... 

276 

^  152 

„      30,  1710 

Hnmortality  of  the  Soul 

280 

153  , 

April  1,  1710 

A  Musical  Interpretation  of  Talk       .     . 

286 

* 

Additional  "  Tatler.  ' 

ESSAYS    SELKCTEr)    FRO^t    lIIE    TATLEll. 


vu 


No. 

155 
158 
161 
163 
165 
181 
192 
106 
198 
200 
202 
203 
204 
206 
207 
208 
209 
211 
212 
214 
216 
217 
219 
220 
221 
224 
229 
232 
235 
237 
239 
241 
242 
243 
245 
247 
249 
250 
252 
253 
254 


Date. 


Subject. 


Page 


April  6,  1710 
,,  13,  1710 
,,  20,  1710 
,,  25,  1710 
,,  29,  1710 
June  6,  1710 
July  1,  1710 
,,  11,  1710 
,,  15,  1710 
,,  20,  1710 
,,  25,  1710 
„  27,  1710 
„  29,  1710 
August  3,  1710 
,,   5,  1710 
„   8,  1710 
,,   10,  1710 
,,   15,  1710 
„   ir,  1710   , 
,,   22,  1710 
,,   26,  1710 
,,   29,  1710 
Sept.  2,  1710 
,,  5,  1710 
„  7,  1710 
,,  14,  1710 
,,  26,  IvlO 
October  3,  1710 
,,   10,  1710 
„   14,  1710 
,,   19,  1710 
,,   24,  1710 
■,,   26,  1710 
,,   28,  1710 
Xoveniber  2,  1710 
7,  1710  ! 
11,  1710J 
14,  1710 
18,  1710 
21,  1710 
23,  1710 


' 

The  Eolitical  Upholsterer 

290 

Tom  Folio 

294 

The  Goddess  of  Liberty 

297 

Ned  Softly        .        /     . 

302 

The  Critic     ...... 

306 

In  Menioriam  .         .         .         .         .     . 

309 

Constancy 

318 

Patron  and  Client     ...         .     . 

316 

History  of  Cielia   ..... 

320 

Matrimony       .         .         .         .         .     . 

324 

Ambition      ...... 

328 

Vagaries  of  Fortune           .         .         .     . 

331 

Sounds  of  Honour         .... 

335 

Love  and  Esteem      .         .         .         .     . 

338 

The  Three  Xephews       .... 

342 

Flattery  as  an  Art     ...         .     . 

345 

A  History  Piece    ..... 

349 

Devotion       ...... 

352 

On  Dress          ...... 

356 

A  Political  Barometer  .... 

358 

Legacy  of  a  Virtuoso         .         .         .     . 

361 

On  Scolds 

364 

Pert  Puppies    ...... 

368 

An  Ecclesiastical  Thermometer 

371 

Lady  Gimcrack's  Letter    .                  .     . 

375 

Advertisements     ..... 

379 

Detractors  of  the  "  Tatler "       .         .     . 

382 

The  Upholsterer's  Letter 

385 

Parental  Love  .         .         .         .         .     . 

389 

Itliuriel's  Spear     ..... 

392 

A  Gentle  Chastisement     .         .         .     . 

396 

The  Power  of  Wine       .... 

400 

True  Raillery 

403 

The  Pving  of  Gyges        .... 

407 

Bridget  Howd'ye       ..... 

410 

Advice  to  a  Nortliern  Lass     . 

414 

xVdventures  of  a  Shilling  .         .         .     . 

418 

Establishment  of  the  Court  of  Honour  . 

422 

The  Grape  in  Moderation .         .         .     . 

425 

,Charge  of  the  Censor     .... 
vFio/cn  Vonls  .         .         .         .         .     , 

428 

432 

VUl 


ESSAYS   SELECTED    FROM   THE    TATLEK. 


No. 

Date. 

Subject. 

Page 

255 

November  25,  1710 

The  Chaplaiu 

436 

256 

28,  1710 

Court  of  Honour      ..... 

440 

257 

,,          30,  1710 

Variety  of  Sects    ..... 

444 

259 

Decembers,  1710 

Court  of  Honour — continued     .         .     . 

449 

262 

12,  1710 

Court  of  Honour — continued . 

453 

263 

14,  1710 

Late  Hours       ...... 

456 

265 

19,1710 

Court  of  Honour — continued. 

460 

266 

21,1710 

On  Growing  Old 

463 

267 

23,  1710 

Lord  Vcrulani's  Prayer 

467 

270 

„         30,  1710 

On  Suitable  Attire 

471 

271 

Jaiminy  2,  1710-11 

Finis 

475 

THE    TATLEE. 


INTRODUCTOEY    ESSAY. 


The  history  of  the  Glreat  Reyolution  has  been  almost  exclu- 
sively identified  with  the  political  character  of  the  changes  it 
introduced.  It  is  true  that  the  reigu  of  AVilliam  the  Deliverer 
rang  the  death-knell  of  government  by  prerogative  aud  by 
ushering  in  government  by  parliament,  so  raised  the  influence 
of  the  House  of  Commous  as  eventually  to  create  our  lower 
assembly  the  centre  and  force  of  the  State.  But  the  Revolution 
of  1G88  was  as  much  social  as  it  was  political.  If  it 
emancipated  the  people  from  the  tyranny  of  the  Crown  or  the 
despotism  of  Ministers — according  to  which  was  the  dominant 
authority  of  the  hour — it  no  less  emancipated  the  nation  from 
the  evil  surroundings  which  had  so  long  dejoressed  and  restrained 
its  vitality,  its  energies,  and  its  intellectual  progress.  With  a 
Court  comparatively  pure,  with  the  creed  of  the  land  eliminated 
from  superstition  and  servility,  with  the  restoration  of  the 
currency  and  the  consequent  revival  of  trade,  with  a  general 
stability  of  affairs  that  inspired  confidence  and  stimulated 
activity,  a  healthier  and  more  vigorous  tone  gradually  became 
apparent  throughout  the  country. 

Society  which,  in  the  days  of  the  Restoration,  had  been 
confined  almost  exclusively  to  the  circle  of  a  dissipated  Court, 
now  broke  down  many  of  its  barriers,  and  admitted  within  its 

c  2 


10  THE  tatleh. 

ranks  those  ^vllo  formerly  had  been  ignored.    The  vast  fortunes 
made  in  trade — the  Sir  Andrew  Freeports  of  the  day — had 
created  a  powerful  middle  class,  whose  new  and  varied  wants 
had  to  be  supplied,  greatly  to  the  development  of  the  pros- 
perity of  the  nation.      More  leisure,  more  wealth,  a  less  re- 
stricted social  intercourse,  a  desire   for   the   gratification   of 
purer  tastes,  was  now  causing  pleasure  to  flow  into  different 
and  less  dangerous  channels.     The  list  of  the  coffee-houses 
was  swelled,   and  in   spite   of   such   additions,  none  had  to 
close  their  doors  for  lack  of  patronage.     The  theatre,  which, 
in  the   wild  revelry  of  the  Restoration,  no   modest  woman 
could   attend  unmasked,   was    now,   thanks    to    the  scourg- 
ing  of  Jeremy  Collier   and  a  less  vitiated  taste,  a   popular 
place  of  social  resort,  and  at  the  accession  of  Queen  Anne  a 
masked  female  in  the  house  was  an  exception — neither  author 
nor  actor  giving  occasion  for  such  a  veil.     Perhaps  the  most 
marked  feature  in  this  transition  of  things,  was  the  change  in 
the  position  and  treatment  of  woman.     The  fair  sex  was  no 
longer  the  toy  or  drudge  of  man,  a  plaything  and  an  inferior, 
but  was  quietly  and  imperceptibly  being  regarded  as  an  object 
of  rational  consideration  by  those  to  whom  she  was  henceforth 
to  be  the  helpmeet  and  the  glory.     Yet  one  great  want  had 
still  to  be  suppHed  her.     Save  poems,  plays,  stilted  French 
romances,  and  heavy  tomes  of  sermons,  history  and  biography, 
there  was  little  in  the  literature  of  the  day  to  appeal  to  her 
leisure  or  capacity.     Novels,  newspapers,  magazines,  amusing 
essays,  were  all  conspicuous  by  their  absence.     No  wonder  that 
the  woman  of  the  day  over  her  bohea  talked  and  talked,  for  she 
had  little  encouragement  to  do  ought  else  but  gossip  and  dress. 
And  now  it  was  that  Richard  Steele — always  gallant  and 
sympathetic  when  the  welfare  of  the  ladies  was  concerned — 
came  prominently  upon  the  scene.      On  Tuesday,  April  12, 
1700,  there  appeared,  as  the  happy  coinage  of  his  brain,  the 
first  number  of  the  Taflcr.     The  new  journal  was  to  appeal  to 
various  sets  in  the  community.     The  fashionable  ladies  of  Soho 
and   Covent  Garden,  were  to  read  accounts    of    "gallantry, 


IXTRODUCTORY    ESSAY.  U 

pleasure,  and  entertainment,"  dated  from  White's  Chocolate 
House.  Articles  on  Poetiy  were  to  appeal  to  the  critics  and 
men  of  letters  who  daily  assembled  at  Will's  Coffee  House. 
The  students  and  Templars  who  haunted  the  Grecian,  were  to 
be  propitiated  by  articles  on  Learning  ;  whilst  the  warriors 
and  men  of  fashion,  anxious  as  to  the  conduct  of  a  campaign  or 
a  coquette,  who  patronised  the  coffee-house  of  St.  James's,  were 
to  peruse  the  latest  Foreign  and  Domestic  Xews.  Subjects 
which  could  not  be  catalogued  under  any  special  heading  were 
to  be  dated  from  the  writers'  Own  Apartment.  Tlie  name  of 
the  paper  was  to  be  the  TatJer,  "  in  honour,"  said  Steele,  "  of 
the  fair  sex  ;  "  and  the  object  it  had  in  view  was  "  to  expose 
the  false  arts  of  life,  to  pull  off  the  disguises  of  cunning,  vanity, 
and  affectation,  and  to  recommend  a  general  simplicity  in  our 
dress,  our  discourse  and  our  behaviour."  The  editor  of  the  new 
venture  concealed  his  identity  under  the  mm  de  fjnerre  of  Isaac 
Bickerstaff— a  name  which  Swift  had  a  few  years  before  made 
notorious  by  his  exquisite  ridicule  of  Partridge,  the  astrologer 
and  almanac-maker. 

Few  men  were  better  qualified  to  start  and  manage  a  paper 
of  this  nature  than  its  founder.  Without  going  outside  his 
own  experiences,  the  life  led  by  the  joyous,  kindly  Dicky  Steele 
furnished  him  with  ample  material  to  draw  upon  for  his 
"lucubrations."  The  son  of  an  official  under  the  Irish  govern- 
ment— "a  gentleman  born,"  as  he  was  somewhat  prone  to 
designate  himself  when  amid  the  shady  surroundings  of  Grub 
Street — he  had  known  both  prosperity  and  adversity,  at  one 
time  swaggering  with  men  of  fashion  in  Pall  ]\Iall,  at  another 
hard  pressed  for  a  guinea  to  escape  the  sponging-house.  He 
had  been  educated  at  Oxford,  he  had  deserted  Alma  Mater  without 
taking  his  degree,  and  had  enlisted  as  one  of  "  the  gentlemen 
of  the  Guard  "  in  the  second  troop  of  Life  Guards  ;  though 
soon  afterwards  he  obtained  a  commission  in  the  regiment  of 
John,  Lord  Cutts,  by  dedicating  a  poem  on  the  death  of  Queen 
Mary  to  that  impetuous  and  daring  officer.  Tired  of  soldiering 
he  quitted  the  army  shortly  after  obtaining  his  company,  and 
led  an  irregular,  roystering  life  about  town^  writing  comedies 


12  THE    TATLEPv. 

which  were  not  particularly  successful,  writing  poems  and 
articles  for  the  money  he  so  often  needed,  always  a  favourite 
and  boon  companion  in  whatever  society  he  frequented  until 
he  was  finally  relieved  from  pressing  want  by  his  appointment, 
thanks  to  the  recommendation  of  Arthur  Mainwaring,  to  the 
post  of  Gazetteer,  then  in  the  gift  of  Harley,  afterwards  Earl  of 
Oxford. 

A  fair  but  not  profound  scholar  Steele  possessed  that  know- 
ledge which  is  not  to  be  derived  from  books.  He  was  a  man 
of  the  world,  and  his  humour,  combined  with  his  keen  powers 
of  observation,  had  made  him  a  deep  and  accurate  student  of 
human  nature.  He  knew  the  London  of  his  day — its  haunts, 
its  vices,  its  virtues,  the  pleasures  of  society,  the  woes  of  want, 
and,  to  the  last  trick  in  his  secret  programme,  the  designs  and 
wiles  of  the  impostor.  Thanks  to  his  two  marriages — especially 
to  the  temper  of  his  "  Dear  Prue" — he  had  carefully  studied 
that  most  complex  machinery,  the  heart  and  aspii'ations  of 
woman.  More  as  an  anatomist  than  an  admirer,  he  had 
watched  and  criticised  the  aim  and  promptings  of  "  the  fair 
sex," — that  constant  allusion  to  the  fair  sex  which  so  aroused 
the  ire  and  sneer  of  the  mordant  Swift.  In  the  words  of  the 
French  philosopher,  Steele  was  qualified  to  pass  judgment  for 
he  had  at  least  "  dissected  one  woman."  He  knew  the  excel- 
lence and  the  foibles  of  woman,  her  strength  and  her  weakness, 
her  kindness  and  her  tyrann}',  her  self-denial  and  her  egotism, 
her  indulgence  and  her  restraint — in  fact,  the  whole  mass  of 
contradictions  which  go  to  make  up  her  nature.  His  papers, 
whenever  he  touches  upon  the  purity  or  vanity  of  woman,  her 
severity  or  laxity,  are  always  excellent — the  articles  of  one  who 
knows  and  believes  in  his  subject,  who  has  weighed  it  in  the 
scale  and  not  found  it  much  wanting.  And  this  knowledge, 
always  the  result  of  experience  and  not  of  the  conclusions  of 
imagination,  is  apparent  in  all  the  contributions  of  Steele. 
When  he  attacks  the  vices  of  the  day — drunkenness,  duelling, 
gambling,  profanity,  the  arts  of  a  sharper — we  feel  that  we  are 
in  the  presence  of  one  who  is  no  closet  preacher,  but  of  one  who 
warns   and  denounces   because  he  himself  has  suffered  and 


introductohy  e.ssay.  13 

experienced.  "  The  general  purpose  of  the  ^vhole,"  lie  writes 
when  the  Tatler  readied  its  last  number,  ''  has  Leon  to  recom- 
mend truth,  innocence,  lionour,  and  \'irtue,  as  the  chief 
ornaments  of  life." 

Nor  did  his  intentions  lack  appreciation.  ''  There  is  a  noble 
difference,"  writes  John  Gay,  the  poet  and  humorous  author 
of  Trivia,  in  a  letter  to  a  friend  in  the  country  at  this  date," 
between  Steele  and  all  the  rest  of  our  polite  and  gallant 
authors.  The  latter  have  endeavoured  to  please  the  age  by 
falling  in  with  them,  and  encouraging  them  in  their  fashionable 
vices  and  false  notions  of  things.  It  would  have  been  a  jest,  some 
time  since,  for  a  man  to  have  asserted  that  anything  witty 
could  be  said  in  praise  of  a  married  state,  or  that  devotion  and 
virtue  were  any  way  necessary  to  the  character  of  a  Fine 
Gentleman.  Bickerstaff  ventured  to  tell  the  town  that  they 
were  a  parcel  of  fops,  fools,  and  coquettes  ;  but  in  such  a 
manner  as  even  pleased  them,  and  made  them  more  than  half 
inclined  to  believe  that  he  spoke  truth.  Instead  of  complying 
with  the  false  sentiments  or  vicious  tastes  of  the  age — either  in 
morality,  criticism  or  good-breeding — he  has  boldly  assured 
them,  that  they  were  altogether  in  the  wrong  ;  and  commanded 
them,  with  an  authority  which  perfectly  well  became  him,  to 
surrender  themselves  to  his  arguments  for  virtue  and  good  sense. 
It  is  incredible  to  conceive  the  effect  his  writings  have  had  upon 
the  town  ;  how  many  thousand  follies  they  have  either  quite 
banished  or  given  a  very  great  check  to  !  how  much  counten- 
ance, they  have  added  to  virtue  and  religion  I  how  many  people 
they  have  rendered  happy,  by  showing  them  it  was  their  own 
fault  if  they  were  not  so  !  and,  lastly,  how  entirely  they  have 
convinced  our  young  fops  and  young  fellows  of  the  value  and 
advantages  of  learning  !  He  has  indeed  rescued  it  out  of  the 
hands  of  pedants,  and  fools,  and  discovered  the  true  method  of 
making  it  amiable  and  lovely  to  all  mankind.  In  the  dress  he 
gives  it,  it  is  a  most  welcome  guest  at  tea-tables  and  assemblies, 
and  is  relished  and  caressed  by  the  merchants  on  the  Change. 
Accordingly  there  is  not  a  lady  at  court,  nor  a  banker  in  Lom- 
bard Street,  who  is  not  verily  persuaded  that  Captain  Steele  is 


U  THE   TATLEE. 

the  gToatest  scholar  and  best  casuist  of  any  man  in  England 
Lastly,  his  writings  have  set  all  our  wits  and  men  of  letters 
on  a  new  way  of  thinking-,  of  which  they  had  little  or  no  notion 
before  :  and,  although  we  cannot  say  that  any  of  them  have 
come  up  to  the  beauties  of  the  original,  I  think  we  may  venture 
to  affirm,  that  every  one  of  them  writes  and  thinks  much  more 
justly  than  they  did  some  time  since." 

The  success  of  the  Taller  from  the  date  of  its  publication  to 
the  day  of  its  withdrawal  was  complete  and  assured.  It  was 
as  welcome  to  the  "  lady  of  quality  "  in  town  as  it  was  to  the 
squire  in  his  manor  house  or  the  parson  in  his  vicarage.  A 
new  feature  in  the  literature  of  the  day,  it  received  without 
stint  the  patronage  of  the  powerful  and  the  affluent.  It  was 
all  that  the  novel  and  the  newspaper  were  to  a  later  generation, 
and  appealed  to  a  multitude  of  readers — readers  who  subse- 
quently developed  into  so  numerous  a  class  as  to  cause  the  man 
of  letters  to  rely  upon  a  public  instead  of  grovelling  before  a 
patron.  It  was  Steele  who  laid  the  foundation  of  this  happy 
exchange.  For  the  success  of  the  Tailer  no  small  share,  as  we 
have  elsewhere  admitted,*  was  due  to  the  pen  of  Addison. 
Without  disparaging  the  labours  of  Steele  and  the  excellence  of 
the  papers  he  contributed,  it  was  the  aid  of  his  old  school-fellow 
and  brother  undergraduate  who  raised  the  tone  of  the  journal 
to  the  height  it  reached  and  made  it  the  welcome  guest  at  every 
breakfast  table.  "  The  truth  is,"  writes  Macaulay,  "  that  the  fifty 
or  sixty  numbers  which  we  owe  to  Addison  were  not  merely 
the  best  but  so  decidedly  the  best  tliat  any  five  of  them  are 
more  valuable  than  all  the  two  hundred  numbers  in  which  he 
had  no  share."  This  praise  is  doubtless  somewhat  ex- 
aggerated, but  anyone  who  reads  the  paper  on  Tom  Folio, 
on  Ned  Softly,  on  the  Political  Upholsterer,  on  Frozen 
"Words,  on  the  Ad^'entures  of  a  Shilling,  and  on  the  various 
other  subjects  which  occupied  the  attention  of  Addison,  can- 
not but  perceive  at  a  glance  how  much  of  truth  there  is  in  the 
assertion. 

*  See  tlie  spectator,  iiicluJed  iu  the  series  of  the  "  Chaiulos  Classics," 


INTKODUCTOllY    ESSAY.  15 

At  that  date  Addison  had  crossed  St.  George's  Channel,  and 
was  actiiio-  as  Chief  Secretary  to  the  Earl  of  Wharton,  then 
Lord-LieiUenaiit  of  Ireland.  After  the  issue  of  several 
numbers  of  his  paper,  Steele  wrote  to  his  friend  across  the 
water,  beo-p-ins:  him  to  take  an  active  interest  in  the  new  enter- 
prise,  and  attach  himself  to  the  staff  as  a  contributor.  The 
application  was  not  tendered  in  vain,  and  henceforth  the  genius 
of  Addison  became  as  conspicuous  in  the  pages  of  the  Tatler,  as 
it  became  a  few  months  later  in  the  pages  of  the  Spectator.  We 
all  know  in  what  high  terms  Steele  acknowledged  this  assistance. 
*'  I  have,"  he  writes  in  his  preface  to  the  fourth  volume,  "  only 
one  gentleman,  who  will  be  nameless,  to  thank  for  any  frequent 
assistance  to  me,  wdiich  indeed  it  would  have  been  barbarous  in 
him  to  have  denied  to  one  with  whom  he  has  li^'ed  in  an  inti- 
macy from  childhood,  considering  the  great  ease  with  which  lie 
is  able  to  despatch  the  most  entertaining  pieces  of  this  nature. 
This  good  office  he  performed  with  such  force  of  genius, 
humour,  wit  and  learning,  that  I  fared  like  a  distressed  prince, 
who  calls  in  a  powerful  neighbour  to  his  aid ;  I  was  undone  by 
my  auxiliary  ;  when  I  had  once  called  him  in  I  could  not  sub- 
sist without  dependence  on  him."  At  a  later  date  he  again 
handsomely  admits  his  obligations  to  the  refined  genius  and 
delicatd-imfflour  of  his  friend.  "  The  Tatler  was  advanced 
indeed !  for  it-vvas.raised  to  a  greater  thing  than  I  intended  it  !^ 
For  the  elegance,  purit}^  and  coi'rectiiuss  which  appeared  in  the 
writings  of  Joseph  Addison  were  not  so  much  my  purpose ;  as 
(in  any  intelligible  manner,  as  I  could)  to  rally  all  those 
singularities  of  human  life,  through  the  different  professions 
and  characters  in  it,  which  obstruct  anything  that  was  truly 
good  and  great."  i 

The  two  prominent  contributors  to  the  paper  servedas  ex- 
cellent foils  to  each  other,-  and  what  one  lacked  the  other  sup- 
plied. If  Sts£]£  sometimes  hurried  off  his  articles,  writing 
them  in  taverns  or  whatever  was  the  haunt  he  for  the  moment 
frequented,  drawing_iipxinJiis^  annual  spirits  and  boisterous  ex- 
periences for  the  matter  required  of  him ;  nothing.  cQuld  be 
more  finished,  more  recondite  in  its  references,  more  polished 


13  THE    TATLER 

Mn  the  structure  of  its  sentences  than  the  "copy"  famished  by 
Addison.     Road  any  of  his  papers  and  never  do  we  meet  with 
a  grammatical  mistake,  a  cUimsy  expression,  a  long  and  in- 
volved period,  a  passage  that  has  to  be  read  and  re-read  before 
it  becomes  intelligible  ;  lucidity,  coherence  and  correctness  are 
conspicuous  in  every  line  of  his  contributions.     Xot  without 
reason  did  Dr.  Johnson  recommend  those  who  wish  to    study 
the  English  language  to  give  their  days  and  nights  to  Addison. 
I  If  Steele  owing  to  his  more  vigorous  nature  and  ruder  surround- 
ings is  occasionally  gross  in  his  similes  and  mistakes  sensu- 
Vality  for  love  and  imj^ertinence  for  wit  ;  the  pen  of  Addison 

S never  ofPends — nothing  can  be  purer  than  his  chivalrous  devo- 
tion to  woman,  notliing  tenderer  and  yet  more  penetrating  than 
his  humour,  never  does  he  gloat  over  the  criticism  of  unsavoury 
subjects,  never  does  he  raise  a  laugh  or  inflict  one  of  liis  little 
stabs  which  strike  so  gently  and  yet  go  so  home,  bat  by  the 
aid  of  an  art  which  is  absolutely  without  reproach  :  in  the 
perusal  of  his j)ages_we  feel  we  ui^^-in -the- presence,  of  _ii  perfect 
manof  letters  and  a  ^perfect  gentleman.  To  us  gteel^  appears 
(as  a  rollicking,  easily  led,  impulsive,  good  hearted,  literary 
Vman  ;  Addison  a  quiet,  retiring,  keenly  observant  man  of 
(society  and  man  of  letters.  The  one  looked  out  upon  life  and 
human  nature  from  the  windows  of  the  barrack  yard;  the  other 
from  those  of  his  library.  In  the  criticisms  of  the  former  we 
sgfi  the  man-o£-action,  in  the  criticisms  of  the  latter  the  man  of 
reflection.  The  combination  of  the  two  cives  the  lii>-ht  and 
shade  necessary  to  their  co-editorial  labours. 

To  the  social_historian  of  this  period  the  pages  of  the  Tailer 
are  invaluable.     In  them  we  see  life  and  manners  in  the  reign 

(of  good  Queen  Anne  vividly  and  elaborately  portrayed— the 
dress  and  distractions  of  the  "  lady  of  quality,"  the  gait,  speech 
and  dandyism  of  the  beau,  the  character  and  position  of  the 
clergy,  the  favourite  haunts  of  the  day,  the  dissipations,  recrea- 
tions, employments,  all  held  up  before  us  as  in  a  mirror  of  the 
23ast.  Let  us  look  upon  the  reflection  and  for  a  moment  study 
the  features  of  English  life  in  that  most  picturesque  of  all 
periods,  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century. 


IXTHOPUCTORY    ESSAY.  17 

And  first  as  to  her  who  was  the  object  of  so  much  homage, 
criticism,  and  confusion,  the  dame  of  ftishiou.  The  fine  lady 
was  the  especial  creation  of  the  indolence,  ig-norance  and 
luxury  of  the  hour  ;  holding  in  disdain  most  things  English 
and  accepting  witliout  inquiry  everything  French.  Her  morn- 
ing was  generally  spent  in  bed  ;  then  after  having  sipped  her 
two  dishes  of  chocolate  and  yawned  over  a  French  romance,  her 
waiting-woman  proceeded  to  dress  her  head,  paint  her  cheeks 
and  throw  over  her  shoulders  the  elegant  night-rail  trimmed 
with  the  rarest  lace.  Thus  attired  madam  was  now  ready  to 
receive  her  friends  of  both  sexes  and  pass  the  time  till  noon  in 
ci'iticising  her  neighbour,  the  newest  fashions,  or  the  last  play. 
If  she  happened  to  be  free  from  the  "  vapours,"  her  monkey, 
lap-dog,  and  grey  parrot  were  permitted  on  this  occasion  to 
bask  in  tlie  [sunshine  of  her  brightly  arranged  chamber  if  in 
summer,  or  in  front  of  the  light  and  portable  stove  in  winter. 
At  noon  she  rose  to  dress,  and  now  tlie  one  most  serious 
business  of  the  day  presented  itself.  When  her  cheeks  had 
been  rouged,  her  lips  salved,  her  eyes  brightened,  and  she  had 
availed  herself  of  all  the  other  appliances  of  art  to  conceal  the 
ravages  of  nature,  her  tirewoman  placed  upon  her  hair  (.he 
towering  headdress  of  the  hour,  so  as  to  completely  hide  her  fair 
locks  ;  and  then  were  put  on  the  fine  linen,  the  varied  petticoats, 
often  edged  with  silver,  the  hooped  petticoat  so  girded  against 
by  the  satirists  of  the  day,  the  furbelow,  the  open  laced  boddice, 
the  green  silk  stockings  (what  does  Grammont  say  about  hose 
of  that  hue  ?)  the  high-heeled  shoes,  the  rich  fan  of  India  paint, 
the  hats  or  coloured  hoods,  feathers,  coats,  and  the  rest. 

Her  elaborate  toilet  completed,  the  fine  lady  was  now  scented 
and  patched  to  drive  out  shopping — the  Xew  Exchange  in  the 
Strand  was  her  fiivourite  place  of  resort — till  three,  when  she 
dined,  though  the  hour  for  dinner  like  at  the  present  day  was 
getting  later  and  later,  as  we  see  fi*om  certain  remarks  made  by 
Steele  upon  the  subject.  In  London  she  seldom  rode,  but  was 
carried  about  in  a  sedan  chair,  or  drove  in  her  coach.  Steele 
more  than  once  inveighs  against  coaches  monopolising  so 
much  of  the  road.     After  dinner  visits  as  a  rule  were  paid,  and 


18  THE    TATLER. 

arrangements  made  as  to  the  occupation  of  the  next  day.  The 
evening  was  spent  in  "  seeing  company,"  dancing,  going  to 
the  theatie,  which  opened  at  six,  or  in  playing  cards;  bed- 
time as  a  rule  at  twelve,  though  cards  often  ran  the  night 
into  early  morn.  Next  to  fliiting  and  dancing,  the  great 
recreation  of  the  day  for  the  lady  of  quality  was  card-playing. 
Never  was  the  "  itch  for  play "  keener  than  at  this  date. 
From  the  Tidier  we  learn  that  ombre,  whist,  basset  and  crimp 
were  the  favourite  games.  Play  was  high,  and  frequently 
women  of  fashion  were  forced  to  break  up  their  establishment 
in  town  on  account  of  the  heavy  losses  they  had  sustained. 
"Oh  the  damned  vice!"  cries  Steele,  "that  women  can 
imagine  all  household  care,  regard  to  posterity  and  fear  of 
poverty  must  be  sacrificed  to  a  game  at  cards."  When  her 
ladyship,  after  a  long  course  of  luxury,  idleness  and  dissipation, 
began  to  suffer  physical  inconvenience,  she  was,  then  as  now, 
a  great  believer  in  change  and  the  cure  to  be  derived  from  the 
drinking  of  Spa  waters.  Bath  or  "  the  Bath,"  as  it  was  called, 
was  her  favourite  watering-place,  for  there  the  best  company 
was  to  be  met  with  its  attendant  attractions  of  music, 
gambling,  balls  and  well  laid-out  grounds.  Next  to  the  cit}^  of 
King  Bladud,  the  spas  of  Tunbridge,  Epsom  and  Hampstead 
were  the  most  popular.  The  season  was  from  May  to  August, 
and  at  its  height  in  July. 

The  woman  of  i\\Q  upper  middle  class  led  a  healthier  and  less 
vicious  life  than  her  more  exalted  sister.  If  her  home  was  in 
the  country,  she  was  constantly  in  the  saddle,  and  often  rode 
well  to  hounds,  she  danced  country  dances,  she  interested  her- 
self in  the  poor  of  her  district,  she  helped  her  mother  in 
domestic  concerns,  and  piqued  herself  upon  her  knowledge  of 
preserves  and  the  manipulation  of  medical  prescriptions.  She 
did  not  read  much,  for  as  we  have  said,  there  was  little  to  read, 
but  she  was  no  mean  proficient  upon  the  harpsichord,  and  loved 
to  organise  little  concerts  in  her  village,  she  patched  but  did 
not  paint  and  save  for  the  building  up  of  the  lofty  and  ridicu- 
lous headdress,  her  attire  was  modest  and  attractive.  If  she 
lived  in  London,  she  was  pretty  constant  in  her  attendance  at 


INTRODUCTOllY   ESSAY.  19 

morning  prayers,  either  at  St.  James's  or  at  St.  Paul's,  Covent 
Garden.  (Steele  complains  that  she  looked  about  too  much  and 
never  repeated  tlie  responses)  she  walked  a  u'ood  deal,  chiefly 
in  St.  James's  Park,  between  Story's  and  Posamond  Pond,  she 
adored  French  dances  (country  dances  she  left  to  her  cousin  in 
the  shires),  she  preferred  a  comedy  to  an  opera,  she  had  a 
mania  for  the  purchase  of  lottery  tickets,  she  loved  sight-see- 
ing from  the  newest  rope  dancer  to  the  latest  monstrosity,  she 
believed  in  astrologers,  she  was  fond  of  tea  and  the  "  thick 
scandal"  it  engendered,  and  of  course  she  was  passionately  ad- 
dicted to  that  great  distraction  of  idleness — cards.  Like  the 
dame  of  fashion,  her  thoughts  were  much  occupied  with  the 
details  of  dress — the  choice  of  commodes,  pinners,  furbelows, 
quilted  petticoats,  silk  and  chintz  gowns,  and  modish  French 
night  clothes  engaging  much  of  her  attention.  The  laced 
boddice  had  always  been  somewhat  careless  as  to  the  revela- 
tions it  disclosed,  but  of  late  years  its  boldness  had  developed 
to  such  an  extent  as  to  cause  shopkeepers  to  fear  that  one  class 
of  their  wares  would  become  extinct.  Steele  took  the  subject  up 
and  inserted  in  his  Tailcr,  the  following  humorous  appeal  : — 

"  To  Isaac  Bickerstaff,  Esquire. 

"The  humble  Petition  of  the  Company  of  Linen-drapers, 
residing  within  the  liberty  of  "Westminister, 
"  Sheweth, 

"  That  there  has  of  late  prevailed  among  the  ladies  so 
great  an  affectation  of  nakedness,  that  they  have  not  only  left 
the  bosom  wholly  bare,  but  lowered  their  stays  some  inches 
below^  the  former  mode. 

"  That  in  particular,  Mrs.  Arabella  Overdo,  has  not  tlie  least 
appearance  of  linen ;  and  our  best  customers  show  but  little 
above  the  small  of  their  backs. 

*'  That  by  this  means  your  Petitioners  are  in  danger  of  los- 
ing the  advantage  of  covering  a  ninth  part  of  every  woman  oi 
quality  in  Great  Britain. 

"  Your  Petitioners  humbly  offer  the  premises  to  your  Indul- 
gence's consideration,  and  shall  ever,  itc." 


20  THE   TATLEH. 

The  lives  of  the  men  of  the  upper  dasses,  as  revealed  to  us 

in  the  pages  of  the  Taflcr,  followed  very  much  upon  the  same 

lines.     They  were  equally  friyolous,  indolent,  un-cultured,  and 

un-domestic.     To  the  beau  and  the  fop,  dress  was  as  much  a 

matter  of  grave  import  as  it  was  to  the  dame  of  fashion.     The 

buck  or  the  maccaroni  spent  hours  over  his  toilet.     A  long, 

heavy,  powdered  periwig — sometimes  three  feet  long — ft-amed 

his  patched  and  rouged  face  ;  around  his  neck  was  the  Berdash 

■  or  the  carefully  disordered  folds  of  the  Steinkirk — a  neckcloth 

I   so  called  from   the   battle  of  that  name,  when  the  French 

)   generals  were  so  suddenly  called  upon  to  attack  the  English 

f  as  to  have  no  time  to  arrange  their  cravats.  The  shirt  was  of 
the  finest  linen,  and  its  front  exposed  to  view,  the  waistcoat 
always  being  freely  unbuttoned — *'  wearing  the  breast  open  " 
was  the  highest  form  of  swagger.  The  coat  was  generally 
made  of  cloth  with  elaborate  buttons  and  embroidered  with 
silver,  at  the  ends  it  was  wired  causing  it  to  stick  out ;  for 
visits  of  ceremony  it  was  of  flowered  silk  or  satin  ;  the 
waistcoat  and  breeches  were  after  the  same  fashion.  The 
hose  were  generally  of  silk  in  all  colours,  and  the  shoes 
adorned  with  small  buckles,   the  heels  being  often  of  wood 

(  and  very  high.  Owing  to  the  constant  habit  of  taking 
snuff,  the  pocket  handkerchief  which  w^as   of  silk  and  very 

\  large,  played  a  prominent  part  in  the  attire  of  the  beau. 
Except  when  dancing  a  carelessly  hung  sword,  with  its  hilt 
more  or  less  elaborated  according  to  the  taste  and  wealth 
of  the  wearer,  was  always  carried  at  the  side.  If  the  beau 
was  a  peer  of  the  realm  and  decorated,  he  displayed  on  all 
occasions  his  star  and  riband  on  his  coat.  When  dressed  for 
walking,  the  fine  gentleman  surmounted  his  periwig  with  a 
low  crowned,  broad  1:)rimmed  felt  hat  looped  up  or  cocked,  if  a 
military  man  a  feather  was  worn  ;  it  was  rakishly  put  on  one 
side,  "  one  eye  tucked  under  the  hat."  From  the  third  button 
on  his  coat  hung  his  amber-headed  cane,  or,  if  in  winter,  his 
muff.  In  the  fob  of  his  breeches  was  a  big  watch  to  which 
was  attached  a  broad  ribbon  with  dangling  seals.  If  the 
weather  was  cold  a  roquelaure  or  cloak  (do  we  not  remember 


IXTRODrCTOllY    ESSAY.  21 

the  roquclaiire  of  Uncle  Toby  ?)  generally  of  scarlet  enveloped 
his  manly  form. 

The  occupations  of  the  beau  were  in  perfect  harmony  with 
his  costume.  His  morning  he  spent  in  visiting.  On  entering 
the  room  his  manner  and  appearance  were  stiff  and  studied  but 
not  ungraceful,  the  bow  he  made,  the  mincing  step,  the  fashion 
after  which  he  kissed  the  hands  of  the  fair  sex  or  2:entlv  brushed 
the  painted  cheek  with  his  lips,  for  kissing  the  ladies  on  enter- 
ing the  room  was  then  the  vogue,  his  lisp,  his  hmp,  his 
affectation  of  being  shortsighted  or  of  being  deaf ;  his  oc- 
casional dropping  of  the  aspirate,  the  smile,  the  ogle,  his  way 
of  telling  a  story  or  imparting  scandal,  and  the  rest  of  his  arts 
were  all  acted  in  the  most  finished  manner  and  the  result  of  re- 
peated rehearsals.  One  trick  of  his  he  was  then  very  fond  of 
performing,  for  it  was  the  occasion  of  much  amusement ;  in  the 
nineteenth  century  we  call  it  a  sell,  in  the  eighteenth  it  was 
called  a  bite.  ''  I'll  teach  you  a  way  to  outwit  Mrs.  Johnson," 
writes  Swift  to  his  fair  correspondent  at  Dublin,  '^  it  is  a  new 
fashioned  way  of  being  witty  and  they  call  it  a  bite.  You  must 
ask  a  bantering  question  or  tell  some  damned  lie  in  a  serious 
manner,  then  she  will  answer  or  speak  as  if  you  were  in  earnest, 
and  then  cry  you  '  Madam,  there's  a  bite  I '  I  would  not  have  you 
undervalue  this,  for  it  is  the  constant  amusement  in  Court." 

As  there  were  then  no  clubs  in  the  modern  sense  of  the 
word — for  at  the  October  and  Kit  Kat  Clubs  men  met  only  to 
drink  and  talk  politics — the  young  man  of  fashion,  after 
paying  his  morning  visits,  or  ogling  the  ladies  in  the  Mall — 
the  Parade,  as  it  was  then  called — or  flirting  with  the  pretty 
shopkeepers  at  the  New  Exchange,  dined  at  a  fashionable 
ordinary — at  Locket's  at  Charing  Cross,  or  at  Pontack's  in 
Abchurch  Lane,  noted  for  its  excellent  claret,  both  of  which 
taverns  are  so  often  mentioned  in  the  comedies  of  the  day.  After 
dinner  he  lounged  down  to  his  coffee-house,  the  St.  James's  or 
the  Cocoa  Tree,  where  he  talked,  smoked,  and,  we  fear,  often 
drank  (for  Steele  is  ever  girding  at  the  drinking  habits  of  the 
times),  until  the  hour  had  arrived  for  him  to  occupy  his 
favourite  side-box  at  the  theatre — at  the  Haymarket  or  Drury 


22  TTtE    TATLKPv. 

Lane.  After  the  piny  lie  returned  to  bis  coffee-house,  or  the 
particular  tavern  he  affected,  or  visited  that  haunt  of  gallantry, 
Spring  Garden,  or  more  probably  betook  himself  to  one  of  the 
numerous  gaming-houses  in  the  town,  or  punted  with  the  best 
of  company  at  the  gaming-house  of  the  Grroom  Porter — an 
official  specially  appointed  to  preside  over  gambling,  and 
regulate  its  conditions.  The  Groom  Porter's  was  a  favourite 
haunt  of  the  cold  and  silent  King  William,  where,  according 
to  the  diary  of  Luttrell,  he  seems  invariably  to  have  lost. 

So  much  for  the  man  of  fashion.     To  him  who  had  to  work 
for  his   livelihood   the   tone  of  life  was   healthier,   and   not 
unenviable.     Amusements  were  within  the  price  of  all,  living 
was  cheap,  competition  had  not  as  yet  rendered  work  either 
scarce  or  severe,  and   social   intercourse   was   abundant   and 
enjoyable.     If  the  middle-class  man  did  not  as  now  possess  his 
palatial  club  he   had   his   coffee-house   where,  for   a   modest 
penny,  he  had  the  run  of  a  large  room  where  he  could  hear 
the  news,  warm  himself  before  a  good  fire,  enjoy  his  dish  of 
coffee,  smoke  his  pipe,  and  there  meet  his  friends,  if  necessar}^ 
for  the  transaction  of  business.     If  he  was  a  young  doctor, 
he  patronised  Batson's,  in  Cornhill :  if  a  clergyman,  Child's,  in 
St.  Paul's  Churchyard;  if  a  barrister,  the  Grecian,  in  Dcvereux 
Court,  Temple ;  if  a  merchant,  Garraway's,  in  Exchange  Alley; 
if  a  stock-jobber,  Jonathan's,  likewise  in  Exchange  Alley ;  the 
Jerusalem  and  Lloyd's  were  also  for  city  men  ;  for  the  man  of 
letters  there  was  Will's,  in  Bow  Street  ;  for  the  soldier.   Old 
Man's,  in  Tilt  Yard,  or  Slaughter's,  in  St.  Martin's  Lane  ;  and 
numerous  others  which  appealed  to  every  class  and  purse  in 
the  community.     The  theatre  was  his  great  relaxation,  and 
since  its  prices,  unlike  at  the  present  day,  were  within  the 
scope  of  all,  was  well  patronised.     Constant  reference  to  the 
plays  of  the  day,  and  to  the  favourite  actors  and  actresses, 
is  made  in  the  pages  of  the  Taller.     Lideed,  Colley  Gibber 
frankly  acknowledges  how  much  the  stage  was  indebted  to 
the  dramatic  criticisms  of  Steele,  how  he  induced  the  town 
to  come  to  the  play-houses,  and  how  people  were  attracted  by 
th.c  force  and  influence  of  his  papers.     The  play  began  at  six. 


IXTRODUCTOIIY    ESSAY.  23 

The  pit  was  the  popular  seat ;  the  upper  gallery  for  footmen  ; 
the  middle  gallery  for  the  well-to-do  ;  and  the  boxes  for  "  the 
quahty."  "  The  Pit,"  writes  Misson,  a  French  critic  of 
English  life  at  this  date,  '*is  an  amphitheatre  filled  with 
benches  without  back-boards,  and  adorned  and  covered  with 
green  cloth.  Men  of  quality,  particularly  the  younger  sort, 
some  ladies  of  reputation  and  virtue,  and  abundance  of  damsels 
that  hunt  for  prey,  sit  all  together  in  this  place  higgledy- 
piggledy,  chatter,  toy,  play,  hear,  and  hear  not."  Between  the 
acts  wenches  with  baskets  of  oranges  went  about  the  pit  to 
sell  their  wares.  It  was  when  acting  in  this  capacity  that 
Nell  Gwynne  attracted  the  attention  of  the  Merry  Monarch. 

In  addition  to  the  theatre  there  were  various  other 
amusements.  There  were  the  fairs,  at  specified  dates,  of 
Bartholomew  and  Southwark  ;  exhibitions  of  all  kinds, 
generally  held  at  the  most  noted  taverns ;  travelling 
menageries,  which  occupied  any  piece  of  vacant  ground  in 
the  town  ;  rope-dancing  ;  fencing  bouts  ;  boxing  ;  bear-bait- 
ing at  Hockley-in-the-hole,  bull-baiting  at  Tothill  Fields,  and 
cock-fighting  at  Gray's  Inn  Gardens.  These  last  entertain- 
ments excited  the  ire  of  Steele,  who  denounced  them  for 
their  cruelty,  and  declared  that  among  no  other  people  were 
they  looked  upon  as  pleasures.  We  also  hear  of  billiards, 
tennis,  cricket,  football,  archery,  and  then  as  now  the  wit- 
nessing of  racing  was  always  a  spectacle  that  afforded  much 
delight  to  every  class  in  the  nation.  Ptaces  for  stakes  of  all 
descriptions  were  among  the  most  prominent  features  in  the 
pastimes  of  the  age.  Xot  a  town  of  any  note  but  had  its 
racecourse. 

To  one  profession  the  pages  of  the  Tatler  offer  corroboration 
of  a  then  melancholy  truth.  The  position  and  activity  of  the 
clergy  left  very  much  to  be  desired.  With  but  a  few  excep- 
tions the  parson  both  in  London  and  the  country  was  an  idle, 
ignorant,  servile  creature,  grovelling  before  his  patron,  and 
careless  as  to  the  welfare  of  his  flock.  According  to  Steele  he 
read  badly,  hurried  over  the  services  entrusted  to  him,  whilst 
to  his  laziness  were  to  be  attributed  the  dissensions  which  so 

D 


24  THE    TATLEE. 

often  broke  out  in  every  parish,  and  lielpecl  to  fill  the  con- 
venticles.    Though  occupying  the  position  of  a  gentleman,  he 
was  treated  with  scant  i-espcct,  and  seldom  regarded  by  his 
squire  or  his  lady  as  an  equal.     Hospitality  or  attention  was 
rarely  shown  him  except  when  he  was  wanted  to  take  a  hand 
at  cards,  to  fill  a  vacant  j^lace  at  the  table,  or  to  give  informa- 
tion upon  some  subject  of  which  he  was  supposed  to  possess 
especial  knowledge.     Between  him  and  his  scanty  congregation 
there  was  little  love  or  regard  ;  the  one  looked  upon  his  duties 
as  weary  and  monotonous,  whilst  the  poor  knew  from  the  means 
of  "  Sir  Crape  "  that  their  necessities  could  not  be  relieved.   As 
a  rule  the  country  vicar  was  always  married,  and  often,  if  we 
credit  the  satire  of  the  period,  to  "  My  Lady's   antiquated 
waiting  maid,"  who,  perhaps,  in  her  youth  had  not  been  cruel 
to  My  Lord.     Did  not  that  pliant  divine,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Tusher, 
of  Castlewood,  link  himself  to  the  tirewoman  of  My  Lady  ? 
Yet  if  the  position  of  the  rural  parson  was  degrading,  that  of 
the  domestic  chaplain  was  still  more  so.     He  was  the  butt  of 
the  household,  the  object  of  derision  to  the  boys  of  the  family 
he  was   sometimes   called  upon   to   teach,   the   scorn  of  the 
servants,  and,  though  he  dined  at  the  table  of  his  patron,  was 
expected  to  retire  when  the  sweets  were  served.     H'  he  resisted 
this  custom,  his  opposition,  as  we  see  from  the  Tatler,  some- 
times cost  him  his  post.     ''  I  am  chaplain,"  writes  Addison  in 
the  guise  of  one  of  these  clerical  menials,  "  to  an  honourable 
family,  very  regular  at  the  hours  of  devotion,  and,  I  hope,  of 
an  unblameable  life  ;  but  for  not  offering  to  rise  at  the  second 
course  I  found  my  patron  and  his  lady  very  sullen  and  out  of 
humour,  though  at  first  I  did  not  know  the  reason  of  it.     At 
length,  when  1  happened  to  help  myself  to  a  jelly,  the  lady  of 
the  house,  otherwise  a  devout  woman,  told  me  that  it  did  not 
become  a  man  of  my  cloth  to  delight  in  such  frivolous  food  : 
but   as  T  still  continued  to   sit   out  the   last   course  I  was 
yesterday  informed  by  the  butler  that  his  lordship   had  no 
farther  occasion  for  my  service."     What  a  flood  of  light  is 
thrown  upon  the  position  of  the  unhappy  chaplain  by  these 
words,  "  informod  Inj  tlic  InifJcr  !  " 


LMTtODUCTOHY    ESSAY.  25 

"When  the  parson  took  his  walks  abroad  he  was  always 
dressed  in  cassock  and  gown  and  his  head  covered  with  the 
heavy  wig  of  the  period.  Then,  as  now,  there  were  dandies  in 
the  sacred  profession — though  only  in  Loudon — who  prided 
themselves  upon  their  powdered  periwigs,  their  white  hands, 
the  sheen  of  their  gowns  and  polish  of  their  shoes,  the  dulcet 
tones  in  which  they  appealed  to  the  fair  sex  and  the  expressive 
sentimentality  of  their  gaze.  Steele  takes  these  "pretty 
fellows  in  sacred  orders"  to  task.  "I  therefore  earnestly 
desii'e,"  he  writes  in  a  Tatter,  "  our  young  missionaries  from 
the  Universities  to  consider  where  they  are,  and  not  dress  aud 
look  and  move  like  young  officers.  It  is  no  disadvantage  to 
have  a  very  handsome  white  hand,  but  were  I  to  preach 
repentance  to  a  gallery  of  ladies,  I  would,  methinks,  keep  my 
gloves  on."  Nor  were  the  arts  of  these  "pretty  fellows" 
wholly  ineffectual.  What  satirist  is  it  who  said  that  the 
religion  of  young  ladies  is — curates  ?  Thus  writes  in  a  TatUr 
Miss  Penitence  Gentle  to  one  the  Eev.  Mr.  Ralph  Incense, 
chaplain  to  the  dowager  Countess  of  Brumpton.  "I  heard 
and  saw  you  preach  last  Sunday.  I  am  an  ignorant  young 
woman  and  understood  not  half  you  said  :  but  ah  !  your 
manner  when  you  held  up  both  your  hands  towards  our  pew  ! 
Did  you  design  to  win  me  to  Heaven  or  yourself  ?  "  Can  the 
nineteenth  century  say  that  the  race  of  Penitence  Gentle's  and 
Ealph  Incense's  has  wholly  died  out  ?  As  long  as  the 
mechanism  of  a  creed  has  to  be  maintained  in  order  to 
regulate  and  exalt  its  animating  spirit,  hero-worship  of  this 
description  will  never  lack  a  shrine. 

We  have  but  alluded  to  the  prominent  features  of  this  reign 
which  are  present^.d  to  us  in  the  papers  of  the  four  volumes 
of  the  Tatler.  No  period  is  richer  in  the  contemporary 
materials  it  offers  for  a  complete  and  vivid  history  of  its 
times  than  the  reign  of  Queen  Anne,  and  of  these  materials 
the  essays  penned  by  Addison  and  Steele  are  among  the 
richest.  Not  a  subject  which  interested  our  ancestors  but  is 
brought  forward,  discussed  and  dismissed.  The  style  of  the 
Tatler  is  here  and  there  somewhat  less  light  than  that  of  its 

D  2 


1Q  THE    TATLER. 

more  popular  contemporary  the  Spectator ;  but  embedded  in  its 
pages  are  essays  so  humorous,  so  truthful,  so  suggestive,  so 
replete  "with  advice  and  instruction  of  the  highest  order,  that 
they  well  deserve  to  be  separated  from  their  fellows  and  taken 
out  of  the  oblivion  in  which  they  have  too  long  been  allowed 
to  remain.  This  selection  has  now  been  attempted,  and  it  is 
hoped  not  without  success. 

After  a  circulation  of  some  twenty  months  the  Tcdler  sud- 
denly ceased  to  appear,  Jan.  2,  1711.    Yarious  reasons  have 
been  given  for  its  withdrawal  at  the  height  of  its  prosperity, 
but  if  we  criticise  the  politics  of  the  hour  the  one  real  reason 
is  not  difficult  to  discover.     According  to  Steele  the  Tatler 
was   discontinued  because  the  world  had  ascertained  that  he 
himself  was  its  editor  and  chief  contributor.     vSo  loug  as  he 
wrote  anonymously  and  his  personality  was  kept  in  the  back- 
ground the  strength  of  his  attacks  upon  gambling,  duelling, 
and  the  other  vices  of  the  age  was  unimpaired.     The  sermon 
was  excellent,  provided  the  preacher  was  unknown.     But  what 
was  to  be  said  of  the  discourse  when  the  pulpit  orator  was 
found  to  be  more  than  liberally  endowed  with  the  frailties  of 
our  erring  nature,  and  to  practise  seldom  what  he  so  eloquently 
enlarged  upon  ?      "I  never  designed  in  my  articles,"  writes 
Steele,  when  announcing  the  withdrawal  of  the  Tatler,  *'  to 
give  any  man  any  secret  wound  by  my  concealment,  but  spoke 
in  the  character  of  an  old  man,  a  philosopher,  a  humourist,  an 
astrologer  and  a  censor,  to  allure  my  reader  with  the  variety 
of  my  subjects  and  insinuate  if  I  could  the  weight  of  reason 
with  the  agreeableness  of  wit.    The  general  purpose  of  the 
whole  has  been  to  recommend  truth,  innocence,  honour  and 
virtue  as  the  chief  ornaments  of  life  ;  but  I  considered  that 
severity  of  manners  was   absolutely  necessary  to    him  who 
would  censure  others ;    and  for  that  reason,  and  that  only, 
chose  to  talk  in  a  mask.     I  shall  not  carry  my  humility  so  far 
as  to  call  myself  a  vicious  man  ;  but  at  the  same  time  must 
confess,  my  life  is   at  best  but  pardonable.     And  with  no 
greater  character  than  this,  a  man  would  make  an  indifferent 
progress  in  attacking  prevailing  and  fashionable  vices,  which 


IXTRODUCTORY    ESSAY.  27 

Mr.  BickerstafF  has  done  with  a  freedom  of  spirit  that  would 
have  lost  both  its  beauty  and  efficacy,  had  it  been  pretended  to 
by  Mr.  Steele."  Yet  this  statement  is  but  half  the  truth. 
The  stripping  off  the  "  mask  "  may  have  had  some  connection 
w4th  the  extinction  of  the  Taller^  but  we  fancy  that  in  Steele's 
dismissal  from  his  post  as  Gazetteer  lies  the  actual  and  domi- 
nant reason.  It  was  from  his  official  position  as  Gazetteer, 
that  Steele  was  indebted  for  the  early  and  trustworthy  news 
with  which  he  supplied  his  paper,  and  which  caused  the  Tatlcr 
to  triumph  over  all  its  rivals.  The  London  Post,  the  Postboy, 
and  Dyer's  News  Letter,  in  discussing  foreign  intelligence, 
were  greatly  at  a  disadvantage  when  compared  with  tlic  most 
popular  journal  of  the  time,  which  drew  its  information  direct 
from  the  fountain-head.  Deprived  of  his  office  Steele  saw  that 
the  days  of  the  Tatler  were  numbered,  and  that  it  must  either 
exist,  like  the  rest,  as  a  political  paper,  or  develop  its  social 
and  humorous  articles.  He  preferred  the  latter  course,  and 
from  the  ashes  of  the  defunct  Tatler  arose  the  Spectator. 

Why  was  Steele  compelled  to  resign  his  office  as  Gazetteer  ? 
It  appears  that  he  permitted  certain  articles,  though  apparently 
not  written  by  himself,  reflecting  upon  the  State,  and  especially 
upon  Harley,  to  find  their  way  into  the  columns  of  the  Tatler. 

As  we  have  already  related,  Steele  was  indebted  for  his 
appointment  of  Gazetteer  to  Arthur  Mainwaring,  who  had 
obtained  it  from  Harley,  then  one  of  the  two  Secretaries  of 
State,  the  other  being  Lord  Sunderland,  the  son-in-law  of  the 
great  Marlborough.  Owing  to  the  tactics  of  party  warfare,  the 
Whigs,  divided  and  disheartened,  were  now  gradually  being 
ousted  from  office.  At  last  the  trial  of  Sacheverell  completed 
their  overthrow.  Sunderland,  fi-om  whose  office  at  Whitehall 
so  many  of  Steele's  letters  had  been  dated,  was  dismissed,  and 
was  succeeded  by  Lord  Dartmouth,  a  staunch  but  violent  Tory. 
A  few  months,  however,  before  his  resignation  Sunderland  had 
appointed  Steele  to  a  Commissionership  of  Stamps,  a  vacancy 
having  been  created  by  the  nomination  of  John  ]\[olesworth  as 
envoy  to  the  Court  of  Tuscany.  And  now  it  was  that  there 
appeared  in  the  Tatler  three  papers  which  were  supposed  to 


28  THE    TATLEH. 

reflect  upon  Ilarley,  then  scheming  for  supreme  power. 
AVhether  Steele  penned  these  strictures  or  not  he  was  regarded 
hj  all  parties  as  their  author,  and  his  periodical  looked  upon 
with  suspicion  by  the  now  dominant  Tories.  In  the  preface 
to  the  fourth  volume  of  his  Tafler  Steele  distinctly  denies  that 
he  wrote  the  articles  complained  of.  As  editor  he  was 
responsible  for  their  insertion,  but  of  the  venom  they  contained 
he  was  innocent.  He  held  the  quiver,  but  did  not  manufacture 
the  poisoned  an'ows. 

Denial  was,  however,  useless.  Steele  was  an  object  of  sus- 
picion to  the  Tories  ;  he  had  made  the  now  absolute  Harley 
his  enemy,  and  he  declined  to  imitate  the  example  of  the  bitter 
Dean  of  St.  Patrick's  and  attach  himself  to  the  victorious 
party.  It  was  considered  a  mischievous  precedent  that  one 
holding  the  post  of  Gazetteer  should  lend  himself  to  the  heat 
and  spite  of  faction.  An  official,  it  was  said,  should  not 
*'  engage  in  parties."  Steele  was  accordingly  dismissed  from 
his  office,  and  it  was  also  thought  that  his  three  hundred  a 
year,  which  he  received  as  Commissioner  of  Stamps,  would 
have,  after  a  similar  fashion,  to  be  sacrificed.  Swift,  who  had 
been  employing  his  efforts  for  the  poet  Congreve  to  retain  his 
official  post,  now  performed  the  same  service  for  Steele. 

'^I  was  this  morning,"  he  writes  in  his  Diary,  "with 
^Ir.  Lewis,  the  Under-Secretary  to  Lord  Dartmouth,  two  hours 
talking  politics,  and  contriving  to  keep  Steele  in  his  office  of 
stamped  paper  ;  he  has  lost  his  place  of  Gazetteer,  three 
hundred  pounds  a  year,  for  writing  a  Tafler,  some  months 
ago,  against  Mr.  Harley,  who  gave  it  him  at  first,  and  raised 
the  salary  from  sixty  to  three  hundred  pounds.  This  was 
devilish  ungrateful,  and  Lewis  was  telling  me  the  particulars  ; 
but  I  had  a  hint  given  me  that  I  might  save  him  in  the  other 
employment,  and  leave  was  given  me  to  clear  matters  with  Steele." 
Accordingly,  Swift  continues,  he  proceeded  the  same  evening 
"  to  sit  with  Mv.  Addison  and  offer  the  matter  at  distance  to 
him  as  the  discreeter  person,  but  found  Party  had  so  possessed 
him  that  he  talked  as  if  he  suspected  me,  and  would  not  fall 
in  with  anything  I  said.     So  I  stopped  short  in  my  overture, 


IXTRODrCTOHY  ESSAY.  29 

and  we  parted  very  dryly ;  and  I  shall  say  nothing  to  Steele, 
and  let  them  do  as  they  will ;   but  if  things  stand  as  they  arc 
he  will  certainly  lose  it  unless  I  save  him,  and  therefore  I  will 
not  speak  to  him  that  I  may  not  report  to  his  disadvantage. 
Is  not  this  vexatious  ?  and  is  there  so  much  in  the  iirorerb  of 
proffered  service  ?     When  shall  I  grow  wise  ?     I  endeavour  to 
act  in  the  most  exact  points  of  honour  and  conscience,  and  my 
nearest  friends  will  not  understand  it  so."    Later — on  the 
loth  of  December — he  again  alludes  to  the  subject.     '^  Lewis 
told  me  a  pure  thing.     I  had  been  hankering  with  Mr.  Harley 
to  save  Steele  his  other  employment,  and  have  a  little  mercy  on 
him,  and  I  had  been  saying  the  same  thing  to  Lewis,  who  is 
Mr.  Harley's  chief  favourite.     Lewis  tells  Mr.  Harley  how 
kindly  I  should  take  it  if  he  would  be  reconciled  to  Steele,  &c. 
Mr.  Harley,  on  my  account,  falls  in  with  it,  and  appoints  Steele 
a  time  to  let  him  attend  him,  which  Steele  accepts  with  great 
submission,  but  never  comes,  nor  sends  auy  excuse.     Whether 
it  was  blundering,  sullenness,  or  rancour  of  party,  I  cannot  tell, 
but  I  shall  trouble  myself  no  more  about  him.      I  believe 
Addison  hindered  him  out  of  mere  spite,  being  grated  to  the 
soul  to  think  he  should  ever  want  my  help  to  save  his  friend." 
Such  was  Swift's  story  of  the  matter  in  1710.     Three  years 
later,  however,  when  political   differences   had   widened   the 
breach  between  Steele  and  himself,  he  published  a  pamphlet  in 
which  there  was  a  less  friendly  account  of  the  circumstances 
in  dispute.    Briefly  it  is  as  follows.    Soon  after  the  Sacheverell 
trial,  Swift  writes,  Steele  must  needs  corrupt  his  paper  with 
politics,   and  libel   Harley,   who  had  made   him  Gazetteer. 
Hence,  comments  the  Dean,  when  the  new  ministry  came  in, 
to  avoid  being  dismissed  he  was  forced  to  resign.     It  is  also 
further  alleged  that  when  Steele,  as  a  mere  matter  of  form, 
tendered  his  thanks  to  Harley  for  his  office,  Harley  gave  the 
whole  credit  of  the  appointment  to  Arthur  Mainwaring.    Then 
Swift  proceeds  to  say  that  Steele  had  complained  to  a  gentle- 
man of  Harley's  treatment,  stating  "  he  never  had  done  Mr. 
Harley  any  injury,  nor  received  any  obligation  from  him." 
The  gentleman  (was  the  gentleman  Swift  himself  ?)  thereupon 


30  THE  TATLEE. 

in'odiiccd  the  Tatler  articles,  of  -wliich  Steele  at  once  declared 
lie  was  only  the  publisher,  ''  for  they  had  been  sent  him  by 
other  hands."  This  the  gentleman  considered  ''  a  very  mon- 
strous kind  of  excuse."  To  this  remark  Steele  replied,  "  Well, 
I  have  libelled  him,  and  he  has  turned  me  out,  so  we  are 
equal."  But  neither  would  this  be  granted;  and  he  was  asked 
whetlier  the  place  of  Gazetteer  were  not  an  obligation  ?  "  No," 
said  he,  "not  from  Mr.  Harley,  for  when  I  went  to  thank  him, 
he  forbad  me,  and  said  I  must  only  thank  Mr.  Mainwaring." 

"It  would  be  unwise,"  writes  Mr.  Dobson,  who  has  care- 
fully considered  this  question  in  his  critical  and  interesting 
monograph  on  Steele,*  "  to  attach  too  much  importance  to 
this  statement,  penned  in  all  the  bitterness  of  party  feeling, 
and  aggravated  by  personal  irritation.  But  even  from  this  it 
is  possible  to  deduce  certain  conclusions  by  no  means  so  un- 
favourable to  Steele  as  his  antagonist  would  have  us  to  believe. 
If,  as  Swift  says,  Steele  did  not  regard  himself  as  indebted  to 
Harley,  it  is  difficult  to  fix  upon  him  the  charge  of  ingratitude, 
especially  as  tradition  has,  rightly  or  wrongly,  associated  his 
real  benefactor  Mainwaring  with  the  off'ending  utterances  in 
the  Tatler.  His  error,  if  eii'or  it  were,  lay  in  the  negligence 
or  want  of  judgment,  which  permitted  the  employment  of  a 
non-political  paper  for  political  purposes.  But  considering 
how  he  Nvas  surrounded  by  the  opponents  of  Harley — by 
Addison,  by  Henley,  by  Halifax,  by  Sunderland,  to  the  last 
of  whom,  as  we  have  said,  he  probably  owed  his  Commissioner- 
ship  of  Stamps,  it  is  easy  to  understand  what  pressure  would  be 
put  upon  him  to  harass  a  common  enemy.  As  regards  the 
backwardness  to  fall  in  with  Swift's  schemes,  which  Swift  in 
his  journal  professes  to  regard  as  so  disheartening,  it  seems  even 
more  capable  of  solution.  Steele  and  Addison  had  not  gone 
over,  as  Swift  had,  to  the  Tories,  nor  in  the  turn  things  had 
taken,  were  they  inclined,  after  the  fashion  of  some  of  their  more 
time-serving  colleagues,  to  cling  to  him  like  drowning  men;  f 

*  E»fiUsh  IVorthics.     Eicliard  Steele.     By  Austin  Dohson, 
t   "The  "Whigs  ^vel■e  ravislied  to   see  ]ii(',  niid  -would  lay  hold  on  me 
as  a  twig  Avhile  they  are  drowning."     {Journal  to  Stella,  Sept.  i)th,  1710.) 


IXXrvODUCTORY  ESSAY.  31 

and  although  neither  of  them  tlionght  it  necessary  to 
come  to  open  rupture  with  Swift  the  fdend,  it  is  most 
probable  that  both  of  them  resented  the  patronising  assistance, 
which  at  this  moment  may  fairly  be  supposed  to  have  been 
more  than  usually  arrogant  and  exultant,  of  Swift  the  politician. 
With  respect,  also,  to  that  famous  visit  to  Harlcy  which  Steele 
never  paid,  it  would  seem  that  if  he  failed  upon  this  occasion, 
he  had  at  some  later  time  an  interview  with  the  new  Lord 
Treasurer,  which,  whether  Swift  knew  of  it  or  not,  was  wholly 
satisfactory  in  its  results.  For  this  he  himself  is  the  authority. 
'  When  I  had  the  honour  of  a  short  conversation  with  you,  you 
were  pleased  not  only  to  signify  to  me  that  I  should  remain  in 
this  office,  but  to  add,  that  if  I  would  name  to  you  one  of  more 
value,  which  would  be  more  commodious  to  me,  yon  would 
favour  me  in  it.'  The  proof  that  he  remained  in  his  Com- 
missionership  is  furnished  by  a  letter  of  the  -Ith  June,  1713, 
containing  the  above  extract,  the  object  of  which  letter  is  the 
resignation  of  this  very  post.  It  appears  therefore  that  Harley, 
who  took  from  him  the  Gazetteer's  place  he  had  given  him, 
refrained  from  taking  from  him  the  Commissionership  he  had 
not  given  him.  That  he  did  so  without  some  tacit  under- 
standing is  improbable.  But  whether  it  was  definite  or 
indefinite,  whether  it  amounted  to  an  armistice,  or  an  armed 
neutrality,  are  things  we  may  never  know.  What  is  clear  is, 
the  Tatlcr  came  to  an  end,  and  came  to  an  end  so  suddenly 
that — according  to  Swift — even  Addison,  whom  he  met  on 
the  very  day  of  its  decease,  knew  nothing  of  the  matter — a 
rather  incomprehensible  statement,  which  is  nevertheless  con- 
firmed by  Steele  himself." 

The  sale  of  the  Tatter^  according  to  all  accounts,  was  very 
extensive,  and  must  have  been  a  source  of  great  emolument  to 
Steele.  The  first  four  numbers  were  given  gratis,  and  the 
price  was  then  fixed  at  a  penny,  which  was  afterwards  doubled. 
The  size,  folio,  a  half-sheet  printed  on  both  sides,  deserved  the 
character  which  an  angry  correspondent  gave  it  when  it  first 
appeared,  of  ^' tobacco-paper  and  scurvy  letter."  The  Tailers, 
however,  were  afterwards  collected  in  volumes,  and  i-eprinted  in 


82  THE  TATLER. 

royal  octavo  and  large  letter  at  one  guinea  per  volume.  A 
numerous  list  of  subscribers,  *'  the  greatest  beauties  and  wits 
in  the  whole  island  of  Great  Britain,"  engaged  to  take  the 
work  at  that  then  unprecedented  price.  These  generous  sub- 
scriptions were  handsomely  acknowledged  by  Steele. 

A.  C.  E. 


INTEODUCTORY. 

Ko.  1.     TUESDAY,  April  12,  1700.    [Steele.] 

Quicquicl  agunt  liomines- 


nostri  est  faiTago  libelli. 

Juv.  Sat.  i.  85,  86.* 

"Wliate'er  men  do,  or  say,  or  think,  or  dream, 
Our  motley  Paper  seizes  for  its  theme. 

'  Though  the  other  papers,  which  are  published  for  the  use  of 
the  good  people  of  Eugland,  have  certainly  very  wholesome 
effects,  and  are  laudable  in  their  particular  kinds,  they  do  not 
seem  to  come  up  to  the  main  design  of  such  narrations,  which, 
I  humbly  presume,  should  be  principally  intended  for  the  use 
of  politic  persons,  who  are  so  public-spirited  as  to  neglect  their 
own  affairs  to  look  into  transactions  of  state.  Now  these 
gentlemen,  for  the  most  part,  being  persons  of  strong  zeal,  and 
weak  intellects,  it  is  both  a  charitable  and  necessary  work  to 
offer  something,  whereby  such  worthy  and  well -affected 
members  of  the  commonwealth  may  be  instructed,  after  their 
reading,  what  to  think  ;  which  shall  be  the  end  and  purpose 
of  this  my  paper,  wherein  I  shall,  from  time  to  time,  report 
and  consider  all  matters  of  what  kind  soever  that  shall  occur 
to  me,  and  publish  such  my  advices  and  reflections  every 
Tuesday,  Thursday,  and  Saturday  in  the  week,  for  the  con- 
venience of  the  post..,! I  resolve  to  have  something  which  may-j 
be  of  entertainment  to  the  fair  sex,  m  honour  of  whom  I  have 

*  This  motto  heads  most  of  the  earlier  numbers  of  the  Tatler. 


34  THE    TATLER.  [No.  1. 

inYented  the  title  of  this  paper.  I  therefore  earnestly  desire 
all  persons,  without  distinction,  to  take  it  in  for  the  present 
(jraii.'i,  and  hereafter  at  the  price  of  one  penny,  forbidding  all 
hawkers  to  take  more  for  it  at  their  peril.  And  I  desire  all 
persons  to  consider,  that  I  am  at  a  very  great  charge  for  proper 
materials  for  this  work,  as  well  as  that,  hefore  I  resolved  upon 
it,  I  had  settled  a  con-espondcnce  in  all  parts  of  the  known 
and  knowing  world.  And  forasmuch  as  this  globe  is  not 
trodden  uj^on  by  mere  drudges  of  business  only,  but  that  men 
of  spirit  and  genius  are  justly  to  be  esteemed  as  considerable 
agents  in  it,  wt  shall  not,  upon  a  dearth  of  news,  present  you 
with  musty  foreign  edicts,  and  dull  proclamations,  but  shall 
divide  our  relation  of  the  passages  which  occur  in  action  or 
discourse  throughout  this  town,  as  well  as  elsewhere,  under  such 
dates  of  places  as  may  prepare  you  for  the  matter  you  are  to 
expect  in  the  following  manner. 

A\\  accounts  of  gallantry,  pleasure,  and  entertainment,  shall 
be  under  the  article  of  White's  Chocolate-house  ;  *  poetry 
under  that  of  Will's  Coffee-house  ;  t  Learning,  under  the  title 
of  Grecian  ;  \  foreign  and  domestic  ncAvs,  you  will  have  from 
St.  James's  Coffee-house  ;  and  what  else  I  have  to  oifer  on  any 
other  subject  shall  be  dated  from  my  own  Apartment. 

I  once  more  desire  my  reader  to  consider,  that  as  I  cannot 
keep  an  ingenious  man  to  go  daily  to  Will's  under  two-pence 
each  da}',  merely  for  his  charges  ;  to  White's  under  six-pence ; 
nor  to  the  Grecian,  without  allowing  him  some  plain  Spanish, 
to  be  as  able  as  others  at  the  learned  table  ;  and  that  a  good 
observer  cannot  speak  with  even  Kidney  §  at  St.  James's 
without  clean  linen  ;  I  say,  these  considerations  will,  I  hope, 
make  all  persons  willing  to  comply  witli  my  humble  request 

*  White's  Chocolate- house  was  in  St.  Jaines's-street. 

f  ^Yil^s  Coffee-house  was  on  the  north-side  of  Russell-street  in  Covent 
Garden,  where  the  wits  of  that  time  used  to  assemble,  and  where  Dryden 
had,  when  he  lived,  been  accustomed  to  preside. 

%  The  Grecian  was  in  Devereux-court  in  the  Strand  ;  probably  the  most 
ancient  cofFce-housc  in  London.  In  1652  an  English  Turkey  merchant  brought 
home  with  him  a  Greek  servant,  who  first  opened  a  house  for  making  and 
selling  cofl'ee. 

§  Kidney  was  one  of  the  waiters  at  St.  James's  Coffee-house. 


No.  i.]  TWO    BEAUTIES.  35 

(when  my  gratis  stock  is  exhausted)  of  a  penny  apiece  ; 
especially  since  they  are  sure  of  some  proper  amusement,  and 
that  it  is  impossible  for  mc  to  want  means  to  entertain  them, 
having,  besides  the  force  of  my  own  parts,  the  power  of  divina- 
tion, and  that  I  can,  by  casting  a  figure,  tell  you  all  that  will 
happen  before  it  comes  to  pass. 

But  this  last  faculty  I  shall  use  yary  sparingly,  and  speak 
but  of  few  things  until  they  are  passed,  for  fear  of  divulging 
matters  which  may  offend  our  superiors. 


TWO  BEAUTIES. 

No.  4.    TUESDAY,  April  19,  1701).     [Steele.] 

All  hearts  at  present  pant  for  two  ladies  only,  vrho  have  for 
some  time  engrossed  the  dominion  of  the  town.  They  are 
indeed  both  exceeding  charming,  but  differ  very  much  in  their 
excellences.  The  beauty  of  Clarissa  is  soft,  that  of  Chloe 
piercing.  "When  you  look  at  Clarissa,  you  see  the  most  exact 
harmony  of  feature,  complexion,  and  shape  ;  you  find  in  Chloe 
nothing  extraordinary  in  any  one  of  those  particulars,  but  the 
whole  woman  irresistible  :  Clarissa  looks  languishing  ;  Chloe 
killing  :  Clarissa  never  fails  of  gaining  admiration  ;  Chloe  of 
moving  desire.  The  gazers  at  Clarissa  are  at  first  uncon- 
cerned, as  if  they  were  observing  a  fine  picture.  They  who 
behold  Chloe,  at  the  first  glance  discover  transport,  as  if  they 
met  their  dearest  friend.  These  different  perfections  are 
suitably  represented  by  the  last  great  painter  Italy  has  sent  us, 
Mr.  Jervas.j     Clarissa  is  by  that  skilful  hand  placed  in  a 

*  The  Author  here  celebrates  two  beauties  of  those  times,  whose  real  names 
the  Editor  has  not  been  able  to  discover.  Perhaps  Steele  only  remarks  on 
two  pictures  of  Jervas  [the  instructor  and  intimate  friend  of  Pope],  whom  he 
certainly  meant  to  recommend  as  an  excellent  painter. 


36  THE   TATLEH.  [No.  11. 

manner  that  looks  artless,  and  innocent  of  the  torments  she 
gives  ;  Chloe  is  drawn  with  a  liveliness  that  shows  she  is 
conscious  of,  but  not  affected  with,  her  perfections.  Clarissa 
is  a  shepherdess,  Chloe  a  country  girl.  I  must  own,  the 
design  of  Chloe's  picture  shows,  to  me,  great  mastery  in  the 
painter ;  for  nothing  could  be  better  imagined  than  the  dress 
he  has  given  her  of  a  straw-hat  and  a  ribbon,  to  represent  that 
sort  of  beauty  which  enters  the  heart  with  a  certain  fami- 
liarity, and  cheats  it  into  a  belief  that  it  has  received  a  lover  as 
well  as  an  object  of  love.  The  force  of  their  different  beauties 
is  seen  also  in  the  effects  it  makes  on  their  lovers.  The 
admirers  of  Chloe  are  eternally  gay  and  well-pleased  :  those  of 
Clarissa  melancholy  and  thoughtful.  And  as  this  passion 
always  changes  the  natural  man  into  a  quite  different  creature 
from  what  he  was  before,  the  love  of  Chloe  makes  coxcombs  ; 
that  of  Clarissa,  madmen.  There  were  of  each  kind  just  now 
in  this  room.  Here  was  one  that  whistles,  laughs,  sings,  and 
cuts  capers,  for  love  of  Chloe.  Another  has  just  now  writ 
three  lines  to  Clarissa,  then  taken  a  turn  in  the  garden,  then 
came  back  again,  then  tore  his  fragment,  then  called  for  some 
chocolate,  then  w'ent  away  without  it. 

Chloe  has  so  many  admirers  in  the  house  at  present,  that 
there  is  too  much  noise  to  proceed  in  my  narration  ;  so  that 
the  progress  of  the  loves  of  Clarissa  and  Chloe,  together  with 
the  bottles  that  are  drunk  each  night  for  the  one,  and  the 
many  sighs  which  are  uttered,  and  songs  written  on  the  other, 
must  be  our  subject  on  future  occasions. 


THE  STAFFS. 

No.  11.    THURSDAY,  May  5,  1709.     [Steele.] 

Of  all  the  vanities  under  the  sun,  I  confess  that  of  being 
proud  of  one's  birth  is  the  greatest.     At  the  same  time,  since 


Xo.  11.]  TUE    STAFFS.  37 

in  this  unreasonable  age,  by  the  force  of  prevailing  custom, 
things  in  which  men  have  no  hand  are  imputed  to  them  ;  and 
that  I  am  used  by  some  people,  as  if  Isaac  Bickerstaff,  though 
I  write  myself  Esquire,  was  nobody  :  to  set  the  world  right  in 
that  particular,  I  shall  give  you  my  genealogy,  as  a  kinsman  of 
ours  has  sent  it  me  from  the  Heralds  office.  It  is  certain, 
and  observed  by  the  wisest  writers,  that  there  are  women  who 
are  not  nicely  chaste,  and  men  not  severely  honest,  in  all 
families  ;  therefore  let  those  who  may  be  apt  to  raise  asper- 
sions upon  ours,  please  to  give  us  as  impartial  an  account  of 
their  own,  and  we  shall  be  satisfied.  The  business  of  heralds 
is  a  matter  of  so  great  nicety,  that,  to  avoid  mistakes,  I  shall 
give  you  my  cousin's  letter  verlatm,  without  altering  a 
syllable. 

"  Dear  Cousix, 

"  Since  you  have  been  pleased  to  make  yourself  so 
famous  of  late,  by  your  ingenious  writings,  and  some  time  ago 
by  your  learned  predictions  :  since  Partridge  of  immortal 
memory  is  dead  and  gone,  who,  poetical  as  he  was,  could  not 
understand  his  own  poetry  ;  and  philomatical  as  he  was,  could 
not  read  his  own  destiny  :  since  the  Pope,  the  King  of  France, 
and  great  part  of  his  court,  are  either  literally  or  metaphori- 
cally defunct  :  since,  I  say,  these  things  (not  foretold  by  any 
one  but  yourself)  have  come  to  pass  after  so  surprising  a 
manner ;  it  is  with  no  small  concern  I  see  the  original  of  the 
Staffian  race  so  little  known  in  the  world  as  it  is  at  this  time  ; 
for  which  reason,  as  you  have  employed  your  studies  in 
astronomy,  and  the  occult  sciences,  so  I,  my  mother  being  a 
"Welsh  woman,  dedicated  mine  to  genealogy,  particularly  that 
of  our  own  family,  which,  for  its  antiquity  and  number,  may 
challenge  any  in  Great  Britain.  The  StafPs  are  originally  of 
Staffordshire,  which  took  its  name  from  them  :  the  first  that  I 
find  of  the  Staffs  was  one  Jacobstaff,  a  famous  and  renowned 
astronomer,  who  by  Dorothy  his  wife  had  issue  seven  sons,  «7'~., 
Bickerstaff,  Longstaff,  Wagstaff,  Quarterstaff,  Whitestaft', 
Falstaff,  and  Tipstaff.     He  also  had  a  younger  brother,  who 


33  THE    TATLEPv.  [Xo.  11. 

was  twice  married,  and  had  five  sons,  viz..  Distaff,  Pikestaff, 
JilopstaflP,  BroomstafF,  and  Raggedstaff.  As  for  tlie  branch 
from  whence  you  spring,  I  shall  say  very  little  of  it,  only  that 
it  is  the  chief  of  the  Staffs,  and  called  Bickerstaff,  quasi 
Biggerstaff ;  as  much  as  to  say,  the  Great  Staff,  or  Staff  of 
Staffs ;  and  that  it  has  applied  itself  to  astronomy  with  great 
success,  after  the  example  of  our  aforesaid  forefather.  The 
descendants  from  Longstaff,  the  second  son,  were  a  rakish 
disorderly  set  of  people,  and  rambled  from  one  place  to 
another,  until,  in  the  time  of  Harry  the  Second,  they  settled  in 
Kent,  and  were  called  long-tails,  from  the  long-tails  which 
were  sent  them  as  a  punishment  for  the  murder  of  Thomas-a- 
Becket,  as  the  legends  say.  They  have  always  been  sought 
after  by  the  ladies  ;  but  whether  it  be  to  show  their  aversion 
to  popery,  or  their  love  to  miracles,  I  cannot  say.  The 
Wagstaffs  are  a  merry  thoughtless  sort  of  people,  who  have 
always  been  opinionated  of  their  own  wit ;  they  have  turned 
themselves  mostly  to  poetry.  This  is  the  most  numerous 
branch  of  our  family,  and  the  poorest.  The  Quarterstaffs  are 
most  of  them  prize-fighters  or  deer-stealers :  there  have  been 
so  many  of  them  hanged  lately,  that  there  are  very  few  of  that 
branch  of  our  family  left.  The  Whitestaffs  *  are  all  courtiers, 
and  have  had  very  considerable  places.  There  have  been  some 
of  them  of  that  strength  and  dexterity,  that  five  hundred  f  of 
the  ablest  men  in  the  kingdom  have  often  tugged  in  vain  to 
pull  a  staff  out  of  their  hands.  The  Falstaffs  are  strangely 
given  to  whoring  and  drinking  :  there  are  abundance  of  them 
in  and  about  London.  One  thing  is  very  remarkable  of  this 
branch,  and  that  is,  there  are  just  as  many  women  as  men  in 
it.  There  was  a  wicked  stick  of  wood  of  this  name  in  Harry 
the  Fourth's  time,  one  Sir  John  Falstaff.  As  for  Tipstaff,  the 
youngest  son,  he  was  an  honest  fellow  ;  but  his  sons,  and  his 
sons'  sons,  have  all  of  them  been  the  veriest  rogues  living  :  it 
is  this  unlucky  branch  that  has  stocked  the  nation  with  that 

*  An  allusion  to  tlic  staff  carrieel,  as  an  ensign  of  his  office,  Ly  the  First 
Lord  of  the  Treasury. 

f  The  House  of  Commons. 


No.  11.]  THE    STAFFS.  3D 

swarm  of  lawyers,  attorneys,  Serjeants,  and  baililis,  with  whicli 
the  nation  is  over-run.  Tipstaff,  being  a  seventh  son,  used  to 
cure  the  king's-evil  ;  but  liis  rascally  descendants  arc  so  far 
from  having  that  healing  quality,  that  by  a  touch  ui)on  the 
shoulder  they  give  a  man  such  an  ill  habit  of  body,  that  he  can 
never  come  abroad  afterwards.  This  is  all  I  know  of  the  line 
of  Jacobstaff':  his  younger  brother  Isaacstaff,  as  I  told  you 
before,  had  five  sons,  and  was  married  twice  :  liis  first  wife  was 
a  Staff  (for  they  did  not  stand  upon  false  heraldry  in  those 
days)  by  whom  he  had  one  son,  who,  in  process  of  time,  being 
a  schoolmaster  and  w^ell  read  in  the  Greek,  called  himself 
Distaff,  or  Twicestaff.  He  was  not  very  rich,  so  he  put  his 
children  out  to  trades;  and  the  Distaffs  have  ever  since  been 
employed  in  the  woollen  and  linen  manufactures,  except  myself, 
who  am  a  genealogist.  Pikestaff,  the  eldest  son  by  the  second 
venter,  was  a  man  of  business,  a  downright  plodding  fellow, 
and  withal  so  plain,  that  he  became  a  proverb.  Most  of  this 
family  are  at  present  in  the  army.  Raggedstaff  "was  an  un- 
lucky bo}',  and  used  to  tear  his  clothes  in  getting  birds' 
nests,  and  was  always  playing  with  a  tame  bear  his  father 
kept.  Mopstaff  fell  in  love  with  one  of  his  father's  maids,  and 
used  to  help  her  to  clean  the  house.  Broomstaff  "was  a 
chimney-sweeper.  The  Mopstaffs  and  Broomstaffs  are 
naturally  as  civil  people  as  ever  went  out  of  doors  ;  but 
alas  I  if  they  once  get  into  ill  hands,  they  knock  down 
all  before  them.  Pilgrimstaff  ran  away  from  his  friends, 
and  went  strolling  about  the  country  :  and  Pipestaff  was  a 
wine-cooper.     These  two  were  the  unlawful  issue  of  Longstaff. 

"X.B.  The  Canes,  the  Clubs,  the  Cudgels,  the  Wands, 
the  Devil  upon  two  Sticks,*  and  one  Breads  that  goes  by  the 
name  of  Staff  of  Life,  are  none  of  our  relations. 

I  am,  Dear  Cousin, 

Your  humble  servant, 

D.  Distaff." 

From  the  Heralds  Office,  May  1,  1709. 

*  An  allusion  to  the  "Diahle  Boiteux  "  of  Le  Sage. 


40  THE    TATLER.  [Xo.  ID. 

AN  ESQUIEE. 

No.  10.     TUESDAY,  May  24,  1700.     [Steele.] 

There  is  notluDg  can  give  a  man  of  any  consideration 
greater  pain,  than  to  see  order  and  distinction  laid  aside 
amongst  men,  especially  when  the  rank  (of  which  he  himself  is 
member)  is  intruded  upon  by  such  as  have  no  pretence  to  that 
honour.  The  appellation  of  Esquire  is  the  most  notoriously 
abused  in  this  kind,  of  any  class  amongst  men ;  insomuch, 
that  it  is  become  almost  the  subject  of  derision  :  but  I  will  be 
bold  to  say,  this  behaviour  towards  it  proceeds  from  the 
ignorance  of  the  people  in  its  true  origin.  I  shall  therefore,  as 
briefly  as  possible,  do  myself  and  all  true  Esquires  the  justice 
to  look  into  antiquity  upon  this  subject.* 

In  the  first  ages  of  the  world,  before  the  invention  of 
jointures  and  settlements,  when  the  noble  passion  of  love  had 
possession  of  the  hearts  of  men,  and  the  fair  sex  were  not  yet 
cultivated  into  the  merciful  disposition  which  they  have 
showed  in  latter  centuries,  it  was  natural  for  great  and  heroic 
spirits  to  retire  to  rivulets,  woods,  and  caves,  to  lament  their 
destiny,  and  the  cruelty  of  the  fair  persons  who  were  deaf  to 
their  lamentations.  The  hero  in  this  distress  was  generally 
in  armour,  and  in  a  readiness  to  fight  any  man  he  met  with, 
especially  if  distinguished  by  any  extraordinary  qualifications  : 
it  being  the  nature  of  heroic  love  to  hate  all  merit,  lest  it 
should  come  within  the  observation  of  the  cruel  one  by  whom 
its  own  perfections  are  neglected.  A  lover  of  this  kind  had 
always  about  him  a  person  of  a  second  value,  and  subordinate 
to  him,  who  could  hear  his  afflictions,  carry  an  inchantment  for 
his  wounds,  hold  his  helmet  when  he  was  eating  (if  ever  he  did 
eat),  or  in  his  absence,  when  he  was  retired  to  his  apartment  in 
any  king's  palace,  tell  the  prince  himself,  or  perhaps  his 
daughter,  the  birth,  parentage,  and  adventures  of  his  valiant 

*  See  Scklcn's  "Titles  of  Honour,"  part  ii.  cIjui..  v.  p.  830. 


Xo.  19.]  AX    ESariRE.  41 

master.     This  tru.sty  companioii  was  styled  his  Esquire,  and 
was  always  fit  for  any  oftiees  about  him  ;  was  as  gentle  and 
chaste  as  a  gentleman-usher,  quick  and  activG  as  an  equerry, 
smooth  and  eloquent  as  the  master  of  the  ceremonies.     A  man 
thus  qualified  was  the  first,  as  the  antients  affirm,  who  was 
called  an  Esquire  ;  and  none  without  these  accomplishments 
ought  to  assume  our  order  :  but,  to  the  utter  disgrace  and 
confusion  of  the  heralds,  every  pretender  is  admitted  into  this 
fraternity,  even  persons  the  most  foreign   to  this  courteous 
institution.     I  have  taken  an  inventory  of  all  within  this  city, 
and  looked  over  every  letter  in  the  Post-office,  for  my  better 
information.     There  are  of  the  ^Middle  Temple,  including  all 
in   the   buttery-books,   and  in   the   lists   of   the    house,   five 
thousand.     In  the  Inner,  four  thousand.     In  the  Kins-'s-Bench 
AYalks,  the  whole  buildings  are  inhabited  by  Esquires  only. 
The  adjacent  street  of  Essex,  from  Morris's  Coffee-house,""'  and 
the  turning  towards  the  Grecian,  you  cannot  meet  one  who  is 
not  an  Esquire,  until  you  take  water.     Every  house  in  Norfolk 
and  Arundel-streets  is  also  governed  by  an  Esquire,  or  his 
Lady  :  Soho-square,  Bloomsbury-square,  and  all  other  places 
where  the  floors  rise  above  nine  feet,  are  so  many  universities, 
where  you  enter  yourselves,  and  become  of  our  order.     How- 
ever, if  this  were  the  worst  of  the  evil,  it  were  to  be  supported, 
because  they  are   generally   men    of   some  figure,   and  use  ; 
though  I  know  no  pretence  they  have  to  an  honom*  which  had 
its  rise  fi'om  chivalry.     But  if  you  travel  into  the  counties  of 
Great  Britain,  we  are  still  more  imposed  upon  by  innovation. 
We  are  indeed  derived  from  the  field  :  but  shall  that  give  title 
to  all  that  ride  mad  after  foxes,  that  halloo  when  they  see 
a   hare,  or  venture   their  necks  full   speed  after   an  hawk, 
immediately   to    commence    Esquires  ?     Xo  ;    our    order    is 
temperate,  cleanly,  sober,  and  chaste  ;  but  these  rural  Esquires 
commit  immodesties  upon  hay-cocks,  wear  shirts  half  a  week, 
and  are  di'unk  t\Yice  a  day.     These  men  are  also,  to  the  last 
degree,  excessive  in  their  food  :  an  Esquire  of  Norfolk  eats  two 

*  Morris's  Coffcc-Iiousc  was  in  tlic  Stran<L 

E  2 


42  THE    TATLER.  [No.  19. 

pounds  of  clnmplin  every  meal,  as  if  obliged  to  it  by  our  order  : 
an  Esquire  of  Hampshire  is  as  ravenous  in  devouring  hogs 
•^  flesh  :  one  of  Essex  has  as  little  mercy  on  calves.  But  I  must 
take  the  liberty  to  protest  against  them,  and  acquaint  those 
persons,  that  it  is  not  the  quantity  they  eat,  but  the  manner  of 
eating,  that  shews  an  Esquire.  But,  above  all,  I  am  most 
offended  at  small  quillmen,  and  transcril)ing  clerks,  who 
are  all  come  into  our  order,  for  no  reason  that  I  know  of,  but 
that  they  can  easily  flourish  at  the  end  of  their  name.  I  will 
undertake  that,  if  you  read  the  superscriptions  to  all  the  offices 
in  the  kingdom,  you  will  not  find  three  letters  directed  to  any 
but  Esquires.  1  have  myself  a  couple  of  clerks,  and  the 
rogues  make  nothing  of  leaving  messages  upon  each  other's 
desk:  one  directs,  ^'To  Gregory  Goosequill,  Esquire;"  to 
which  the  other  replies  by  a  note,  "  To  Nehemiah  Dashwell, 
Esquire,  with  respect  ; "  in  a  word,  it  is  now  Fopulus 
Armigerorwn,  a  people  of  Esquires.  And  I  do  not  know  but, 
by  the  late  act  of  naturalization,  foreigners  will  assume  that 
title,  as  part  of  the  immunity  of  being  Englishmen.  All  these 
improprieties  flow  from  the  negligence  of  the  Heralds-office. 
Those  gentlemen  in  party-coloured  habits  do  not  so  rightly,  as 
they  ought,  understand  themselves  ;  though  they  are  dressed 
ca2J-a-pee  in  hieroglyphics,  they  are  inwardly  but  ignorant  men. 
I  asked  an  acquaintance  of  mine,  who  is  a  man  of  wit,  but  of 
no  fortune,  and  is  forced  to  appear  as  a  jack  pudding  on  the 
stage  to  a  mountebank  :  "  Pr'ythee,  Jack,  why  is  your  coat  of 
so  many  colours  ? "  He  replied,  ^'  I  act  a  fool ;  and  this 
spotted  dress  is  to  signify,  that  every  man  living  has  a  weak 
place  about  him  :  for  I  am  Knight  of  the  Shire,  and  represent 
you  all."  I  wish  the  heralds  would  know  as  well  as  this  man 
does,  in  his  way,  that  they  are  to  act  for  us  in  the  case  of  our 
arms  and  appellations :  we  should  not  then  be  jumbled 
together  in  so  promiscuous  and  absurd  a  manner.  I  design  to 
take  this  matter  into  farther  consideration  ;  and  no  man  shall 
be  received  as  an  Esquire,  who  cannot  bring  a  certificate, 
that  he  has  conquered  some  lady's  obdurate  heart  ;  that  he 
can  lead  up  a  country  dance  ;  or  carry  a  message  between  her 


Xo.  25.]  DUELLING.  43 

and  her  lover,  with  address,  secrecy,  and  diligence.  A  Squire 
is  properly  born  for  the  service  of  the  sex,  and  his  credentials 
shall  be  signed  by  three  toasts  and  one  prude,  before  his  title 
shall  be  received  in  my  office. 


DUELLING. 

No.  25.    TUESDAY,  Juxe  7,  1700.     [Steele.] 

A  LETTER  from  a  young  lady,  written  in  the  most  passionate 
terms,  wherein  she  laments  the  misfortune  of  a  gentleman, 
her  lover,  who  was  lately  wounded  in  a  duel,  has  turned  my 
thoughts  to  that  subject,  and  inclined  me  to  examine  into  the 
causes  which  precipitate  men  into  so  fatal  a  folly.  And  as  it 
has  been  proposed  to  treat  of  subjects  of  gallantry  in  the 
article  from  hence,  and  no  one  point  in  nature  is  more  proper 
to  be  considered  by  the  company  who  frequent  this  place  than 
that  of  duels,  it  is  worth  our  consideration  to  examine  into  this 
chimerical  groundless  humour,  and  to  lay  every  other  thought 
aside,  until  we  have  stripped  it  of  all  its  false  pretences  to 
credit  and  reputation  amongst  men. 

But  I  must  confess,  when  I  consider  what  I  am  going  about, 
and  run  over  in  my  imagination  all  the  endless  crowd  of  men 
of  honour  who  will  be  offended  at  such  a  discourse  ;  I  am 
undertaking,  methinks,  a  work  worthy  an  imiilnerable  hero  in 
romance,  rather  than  a  private  gentleman  with  a  single  rapier : 
but  as  I  am  pretty  well  acquainted  by  great  opportunities  with 
the  nature  of  man,  and  know  of  a  truth  that  all  men  fight  against 
their  will,  the  danger  vanishes,  and  resolution  rises  upon  this 
subject.  For  this  reason,  I  shall  talk  very  freely  on  a  custom 
which  all  men  wish  exploded,  though  no  man  has  courage 
enough  to  resist  it. 

But  there  is  one  unintelligible  word,  which  I  fear  will  ex- 
tremely perplex  my  dissertation,  and  I  confess  to  you  I  find 
very  hard  to  explain,  which  is  the  term  "  satisfaction."    An 


44  .     THE    TATLER.  [No.  25. 

honest  country  gentleman  had  the  misfortune  to  fall  into  com- 
pany witli  two  or  three  modem  men  of  hononr,  where  he  hap- 
pened to  be  very  ill-treated  ;  and  one  of  the  company,  being 
conscious  of  his  offence,  sends  a  note  to  him  in  the  morning, 
and  tells  him,  lie  was  ready  to  give  him  satisfaction.  "  This  is 
fine  doing,"  says  the  plain  fellow  ;  "  last  night  he  sent  me 
away  cursedly  out  of  humour,  and  this  morning  he  fancies  it 
would  be  a  satisfaction  to  be  run  through  the  body." 

As  the  matter  at  j)resent  stands,  it  is  not  to  do  handsome 
actions  denominates  a  man  of  honour  ;  it  is  enough  if  he  dares 
to  defend  ill  ones.  Thus  you  often  see  a  common  sharper  in 
competition  with  a  gentleman  of  the  first  rank  ;  though  all 
mankind  is  convinced,  that  a  fighting  gamester  is  only  a  pick- 
pocket with  the  courage  of  an  highway-man.  One  cannot  with 
any  patience  reflect  on  the  unaccountable  jumble  of  persons 
and  things  in  this  town  and  nation,  which  occasions  very  fre- 
quently, that  a  brave  man  falls  by  a  hand  below  that 
of  a  common  hangman,  and  yet  his  executioner  escapes 
the  clutches  of  the  hano-man  for  doino-  it.  I  shall  there- 
fore  hereafter  consider,  how  the  bravest  men  in  other  ages 
and  nations  have  behaved  themselves  upon  such  incidents  as 
we  decide  by  combat  ;  and  shew,  from  their  practice,  that  this 
resentment  neither  has  its  foundation  from  true  reason  or  solid 
fame  ;  but  is  an  imposture,  made  of  cowardice,  falsehood,  and 
want  of  understanding.  For  this  work,  a  good  history  of 
quarrels  would  be  very  edifying  to  the  public,  and  I  apply 
myself  to  the  town  for  particulars  and  circumstances  within 
their  knowledge,  which  may  serve  to  embellish  the  dissertation 
with  proper  cuts.  IMost  of  the  quarrels  I  have  ever  known, 
have  proceeded  from  some  valiant  coxcomb's  persisting  in  the 
wrong,  to  defend  some  prevailing  folly,  and  preserve  himself 
from  the  ingenuousness  of  owning  a  mistake. 

By  this  means  it  is  called  "  giving  a  man  satisfaction,"  to  urge 
your  ofPence  againsthim  with  your  sword ;  which  puts  me  in  mind 
of  Peter's  order  to  the  keeper,  in  The  Talc  of  a  Tub  :  "  if  you 
neglect  to  do  all  this,  damn  you  and  your  generation  for  ever  : 
and  so  we  bid  you  heartily  farewel,"     If  the  contradiction  in 


No.  35.]  SNUFF.  45 

the  very  terms  of  one  of  our  challenges  were  as  well  explained 
and  turned  into  downright  English,  would  it  not  run  after  this 
manner  ? 

'•'  Sir, 

"  Your  extraordinary  behaviour  last  night,  and  the 
liberty  you  were  pleased  to  take  with  me,  makes  me  this 
morning  give  you  this,  to  tell  you,  because  you  are  an  ill-bred 
puppy,  I  will  meet  you  in  Hyde-park,  an  hour  hence  ;  and 
because  you  want  both  breeding  and  humanity,  I  desire  you 
would  come  with  a  pistol  in  your  hand,  on  horseback,  and 
endeayour  to  shoot  me  through  the  head,  to  teach  you  more 
manners.  If  you  fail  of  doing  me  this  pleasure,  I  shall  say, 
you  are  a  rascal,  on  every  post  in  town  :  and  so,  sir,  if  you  will 
not  injure  me  more,  I  shall  never  forgive  what  you  have  done 
already.  Pray,  sir,  do  not  fail  of  getting  everything  ready  ; 
and  you  will  infinitely  oblige,  sir,  your  most  obedient  humble 
servant,  &c." 


SNUFF 

No.  35.    THURSDAY,  Juxe  30,  1709.     [Steele.] 

There  is  a  habit  or  custom  which  I  have  put  my  patience 
to  the  utmost  stretch  to  have  suffered  so  long,  because  several 
of  my  intimate  friends  are  in  the  guilt ;  and  that  is,  the  humour 
of  taking  snufP,  and  looking  dirty  about  the  mouth  by  way  of 
ornament. 

My  method  is,  to  dive  to  the  bottom  of  a  sore  before  I  pre- 
tend to  apply  a  remedy.  For  this  reason,  I  sat  by  an  eminent 
story-teller  and  politician,  who  takes  half  an  ounce  in  five 
seconds,  and  has  mortgaged  a  pretty  tenement  near  the  town, 
merely  to  improve  and  dung  his  brains  with  this  prolific  powder. 
I  observed  this  gentleman,  the  other  day,  in  the  midst  of  a  story, 
diverted  from  it  by  looking  at  something  at  a  distance,  and  I 


J 


46  THE    TATLER.  [No.  35. 

softly  hid  his  box.  But  he  returns  to  his  tale,  and,  looking  for 
his  box,  he  cries,  "  And  so,  sir — "  Then,  when  he  should  have 
taken  a  pinch,  ^'  M  I  was  saying — "  says  he,  "  has  nobody  seen 
my  box  ?  "     His  friend  beseeches  him  to  finish  his  narration  : 

then  he  proceeds  :  "  And  so,  sir where  can  my  box  be  ?  " 

Then  turning  to  me,  "  Pray,  sir,  did  you  see  my  box  ? "  "  Yes, 
sir,"  said  I,  "  I  took  it  to  see  how  long  you  could  live  without 
it."  He  resumes  his  tale,  and  I  took  notice  that  his  dulness 
was  much  more  regular  and  fluent  than  before.  A  pinch 
supplied  the  place  of  '^  As  I  was  saying,"  and  "  So,  sir  ; "  and 
he  went  on  currently  enough  in  that  style  which  the  learned 
call  the  insipid.  This  observation  easily  led  me  into  a  philo- 
sophic reason  for  taking  snuff,  which  is  done  only  to  supply 
with  sensations  the  want  of  reflection.  This  I  take  to  be  an 
€vpr]Ka,  a  nostrum  ;  upon  which  I  hope  to  receive  the  thanks  of 
this  board  ;  for  as  it  is  natural  to  lift  a  man's  hand  to  a  sore, 
when  you  fear  anything  coming  at  you  ;  so  when  a  person  feels 
his  thoughts  are  run  out,  and  he  has  no  more  to  say,  it  is  as 
natural  to  supply  his  weak  brain  with  powder  at  the  nearest 
place  of  access,  vis.  the  nostrils.  This  is  so  evident  that  nature 
suggests  the  use  according  to  the  indigence  of  the  persons  who 
take  this  medicine,  without  being  prepossessed  with  the  force 
of  fashion  or  custom.  For  example  ;  the  native  Hibernians, 
who  are  reckoned  not  much  unlike  the  antient  Boeotians,  take 
this  specific  for  emptiness  in  the  head,  in  greater  abundance 
than  any  other  nation  under  the  sun.  The  learned  Sotus,  as 
sparing  as  he  is  in  his  words,  would  be  still  more  silent  if  it 
were  not  for  this  powder. 

However  low  and  poor  the  taking  of  snuff  argues  a  man  to 
be  in  his  own  stock  of  thoughts,  or  means  to  employ  his  brains 
and  his  fingers  ;  yet  there  is  a  poorer  creature  in  the  world 
than  he,  and  this  is  a  borrower  of  snuff ;  a  fellow  that  keeps 
no  box  of  his  own,  but  is  always  asking  others  for  a  pincli. 
Such  poor  rogues  put  me  always  in  mind  of  a  common  phrase 
among  school-boys  when  they  are  composing  their  exercise,  who 
run  to  an  upper  scholar,  and  cry,  ''  Pray  give  me  a  little  sense." 
But  of  all  things  commend  me  to  the  ladies  who  are  got  into 


Xo.  41.]  AN   EXEKCISE    OF    ARMS.  47 

this  pretty  help  to  discourse.  I  liave  been  these  three  years 
persuading  Sagissa  *  to  leave  it  off ;  but  she  talks  so  much, 
and  is  so  learned,  that  she  is  above  contradiction.  However, 
an  accident  the  other  day  brought  that  about,  which  my 
eloquence  could  never  accomplish.  She  had  a  very  pretty 
fellow  in  her  closet,  who  ran  thither  to  avoid  some  company 
that  came  to  visit  her  ;  she  made  an  excuse  to  go  in  to  him  for 
some  implement  they  were  talking  of.  Her  eager  gallant 
snatched  a  kiss  ;  but,  being  unused  to  snufP,  some  grains  from 
off  her  upper  lip  made  him  sueeze  aloud,  which  alarmed  the 
visitants,  and  has  made  a  discovery,  that  profound  reading, 
very  much  intelligence,  and  a  general  knowledge  of  who  and 
who  are  together,  cannot  fill  her  vacant  hours  so  much,  but 
she  is  sometimes  obliged  to  descend  to  entertainments  less 
intellectual. 


AN  EXERCISE  OF  ARMS. 

Xo.  41.    THURSDAY,  July  14,  1709.    [Steele.] 


Celebrare  domestica  facta. 

' '  To  celebrate  domestic  deeds. " 

There  is  no  one  thing  more  to  be  lamented  in  our  nation, 
than  their  general  affectation  of  every  thing  that  is  foreign  ; 
nay,  we  carry  it  so  far,  that  we  are  more  anxious  for  our  own 
countrymen  when  they  have  crossed  the  seas,  than  when  we 
see  them  in  the  same  dangerous  condition  before  our  eyes  at 
home  :  else  how  is  it  possible,  that  on  the  twenty-ninth  of  the 
last  month,  there  should  have  been  a  battle  fought  in  our  very 
streets  of  London,  and  nobody  at  this  end  of  the  town  have 
heard  of  it  ?  I  protest,  I,  who  make  it  my  business  to  enquire 
after  adventures,  should  never  have  known  this,  had  not  the 
following  account  been  sent  me  inclosed  in  a  letter.     This,  it 

*  The  lady  here  alluded  to,  under  the  name  of  Sagissa,  a  diminutive  from 
the  "word  Sa[ie,  was  ^Irs.  de  la  Riviere  ^lanley,  who  provoked  Steele  by  the 
liberties  she  had  taken  with  his  character  in  her  "  New  Atalautis."' 


48  THE    TATLEB.  [No.  41. 

seems,  is  the  way  of  giving  out  orders  in  the  Artillery- 
compan}^ ;  and  they  prepare  for  a  day  of  action  with  so  little 
concern,  as  only  to  call  it,  "  An  Exercise  of  Arms." 

"  An  Exercise  of  Arms  of  the  Artillery-company,  to  bo 
performed  on  "Wednesday,  June  the  twenty-ninth,  1709,  under 
the  command  of  Sir  Joseph  AVoolfe,  knight  and  alderman, 
general  ;  Charles  Hopson,  esqaire,  present  sheriff,  lieutenant- 
general  ;  Captain  Eichard  Synge,  major  ;  Major  John  Shorey, 
captain  of  grenadiers  ;  Captain  AYilliam  Grayhust,  Captain 
John  Butler,  Ca])tain  Robert  Carellis,  captains. 

"  The  body  marched  from  the  iVrtillery-ground,  through 
Moorgate,  Coleman  Street,  Lothbury,  Broad  Street,  Finch  Lane, 
Cornhill,  Cheapside,  St.  Martin's,  St.  Anne's  Lane,  halt  the 
pikes  under  the  wall  in  Xoble  Street,  draw  up  the  firelocks 
facing  the  Goldsmiths'  Hall,  make  ready  and  face  to  the  left, 
and  fire,  and  so  ditto  three  times.  Beat  to  arms,  and  march 
round  tlie  hall,  as  up  Lad  Lane,  Gutter  Lane,  Honey  Lane, 
and  so  wheel  to  the  right,  and  make  your  salute  to  my  lord, 
and  so  down  St.  Ann's  Lane,  up  Aldersgate  Street,  Barbican, 
and  draw  up  in  Red  Cross  Street,  the  right  at  St.  Paul's  Alley 
in  the  rear.  March  off  lieutenant-general  with  half  the  body 
up  Beech  Lane  :  he  sends  a  sub-division  up  King's  Head 
Court,  and  takes  post  in  it,  and  marches  two  divisions  round 
into  Red  Lion  Market,  to  defend  that  pass,  and  succour  the 
division  in  King's  Head  Court  ;  but  keeps  in  White  Cross 
Street,  facing  Beech  Lane,  the  rest  of  the  body  ready  drawn  up. 
Then  the  general  marches  up  Beech  Lane,  is  attacked,  but 
forces  the  division  in  the  court  into  the  market,  and  enters 
with  three  divisions  while  he  presses  the  lieutenant-general's 
main  body  ;  and  at  the  same  time  the  three  divisions  force 
those  of  the  revolters  out  of  the  market,  and  so  all  the 
lieutenant-general's  body  retreats  into  Chiswell  Street,  and 
lodges  two  divisions  in  Grub  Street :  and  as  the  general 
marches  on,  they  fall  on  his  flank,  but  soon  made  to  give  way  : 
but  have  a  retreating-place  in  Red  Lion  Court,  but  could  not 
hold  it,  being  put  to  flight  through  Paul's  Alley,  and  pursued 
by  the  general's  grenadiers,  while  he  marches  up  and  attacks 


No.  41.]  AN    EXERCISE    OF    ARMS.  49 

their  main  body,  but  are  opposed  again  by  a  party  of  men  as 
lay  in  Black  Raven  Court ;  but  they  are  forced  also  to  retire 
soon  in  the  utmost  confusion,  and  at  the  same  time,  tliose  brave 
divisions  in  Paul's  Alley  ply  their  rear  with  grenadoes,  that 
with  precipitation  they  take  to  the  route  along  Bunhill  Boav  : 
so  the  general  marches  into  the  Artillery-ground,  and  being 
drawn  up,  finds  the  revolting  party  to  have  found  entrance, 
and  makes  a  show  as  if  for  a  battle,  and  both  armies  soon 
engage  in  form,  and  fire  by  platoons." 

]Much  might  be  said  for  the  improvement  of  this  s}'stem  ; 
which,  for  its  style  and  invention,  may  instruct  generals  and 
their  historians,  both  in  fighting  a  battle,  and  describing  it 
W'hen  it  is  over.     These  elegant  expressions,  ^^  ditto — and  so 

but  soon but   havino,- but   could  not but   are 

but   they finds   the  party   to    have   found,"   &c.  do 

certainly  give  great  life  and  spirit  to  the  relation. 

Indeed,  I  am  extremely  concerned  for  the  lieutenant-general, 
who,  by  his  overthrow  and  defeat,  is  made  a  deplorable 
instance  of  the  fortune  of  war,  and  vicissitudes  of  human 
affairs.  He,  alas !  has  lost,  in  Beech  Lane  and  Chiswell  Street,  all 
the  glory  he  lately  gained  in  and  about  Holborn  and  St.  Giles's. 
The  art  of  subdividing  first,  and  dividing  afterwards,  is  new 
and  surprising  ;  and  according  to  this  method,  the  troops  are 
disposed  in  King's  Head  Court  and  Bed  Lion  Market :  nor  is 
the  conduct  of  these  leaders  less  conspicuous  in  their  choice  of 
the  ground  or  field  of  battle.  Happy  was  it,  that  the  greatest 
part  of  the  achievements  of  this  day  was  to  be  performed  near 
Grub  Street,  that  there  might  not  be  wanting  a  sufficient 
number  of  faithful  historians,  who  being  eye-witnesses  of  these 
wonders,  should  impartially  transmit  them  to  posterity  !  But 
then  it  can  never  be  enough  regretted,  that  we  are  left  in  the 
dark  as  to  the  name  and  title  of  that  extraordinary  hero,  who 
commanded  the  divisions  in  Paul's  Alley  ;  especially  because 
those  divisions  are  justly  styled  brave,  and  accordingly 
were  to  push  the  enemy  along  Bunhill  Row,  and  thereby 
occasion  a  general  battle.  But  Pallas  appeared  in  the  form 
of   a    shower   of  rain,    and   prevented   the    slaughter    and 


50  THE    TATLER.  [No.  42. 

desolation,    which  were    threatened    by  these  extraordinary 
preparations. 

Hi  motus  animornm,  atque  h?ec  certamina  tanta 
Pulveris  exigui  jactu  coinpressa  quiescunt. 

*'  Yet  all  those  dreadful  deeds,  this  doubtful  fray, 
A  cast  of  scatter'd  dust  will  soon  allay.'' 


THEATEICAL  PEOPEETY. 

No.  42.    SATURDAY,  July  10,  17o0.     [Steele.] 

It  is  now  twelve  of  the  clock  at  noon,  and  no  mail  come  in  ; 
therefore,  I  am  not  without  hopes  that  the  town  will  allow  me 
the  liberty  which  my  brother  news-writers  take,  in  giving  them 
what  may  be  for  their  information  in  another  kind,  and  indulge 
me  in  doing  an  act  of  friendship,  by  publishing  the  following 
account  of  goods  and  moveables. 

This  is  to  give  notice,  that  a  magnificent  palace,  with  great 
variety  of  gardens,  statues,  and  water-works,  may  be  bought 
cheap  in  Drury-lane  ;  where  there  are  likewise  several  castles, 
to  be  disposed  of,  very  delightfully  situated  ;  as  also  groves, 
woods,  forests,  fountains,  and  country-seats,  with  very  pleasant 
prospects  on  all  sides  of  them ;  being  the  moveables  of 
Christopher  Rich,'-  Esquire,  who  is  breaking  up  house-keeping, 
and  has  many  curious  pieces  of  furniture  to  dispose  of,  which 
may  be  seen  between  the  hours  of  six  and  ten  in  the  evening. 

THE    INVENTORY. 

Spirits  of  right  Nantz  brandy,  for  lambent  flames  and 
apparitions. 

Three  bottles  and  a  half  of  lightning. 

One  shower  of  snow  in  the  whitest  French  paper. 

*  Drury-lane  playhouse  was  shut  up  about  tliis  time  by  an  order  from 
the  Lord  Cliam1)crlain. 


Xo.  42.]  THEATHICAL   morERTY.  51 

Two  showers  of  a  browner  sort. 

A  sea,  consisting  of  a  dozen  large  waves  ;  the  tenth  *  bigger 
than  ordinary,  and  a  little  damaged. 

A  dozen  and  half  of  clouds,  trimmed  with  black,  and  well- 
conditioned. 

A  rainbow,  a  little  faded. 

A  set  of  clouds  after  the  French  mode,  streaked  with 
lightning,  and  furbelowed, 

A  new  moon,  something  decayed. 

A  pint  of  the  finest  Spanish  wash,  being  all  that  is  left  of 
two  hogsheads  sent  over  last  winter. 

A  coach  yery  finely  gilt,  and  little  used,  with  a  pair  of 
dragons,  to  be  sold  cheap. 

A  setting-sun,  a  pennyworth. 

An  imperial  mantle,  made  for  Cyrus  the  Great,  and  worn  by 
Julius  Ca3sar,  Bajazet,  king  Harry  tlie  Eighth,  and  signer 
Yalentini. 

A  basket-hilted  sword,  very  convenient  to  carry  milk  in. 

Roxana's  night-gown. 

Othello's  handkerchief. 

The  imperial  robes  of  Xerxes,  never  worn  but  once. 

A  wild  boar  killed  by  Mrs.  Tofts  and  Dioclesian. 

A  serpent  to  sting  Cleopatra. 

A  mustard-bowl  to  make  thunder  with. 

Another  of  a  bigger  sort,  by  Mr.  D s's  f  directions,  little 

used. 

Six  elbow-chairs,  very  expert  in  country-dances,  with  six 
flower-pots  for  their  partners. 

The  whiskers  of  a  Turkish  Pasha. 

The  complexion  of  a  murderer  in  a  Imnd-box  ;  consisting  of 
a  large  piece  of  burnt  cork,  and  a  coal-black  peruke. 

A  suit  of  clothes  for  a  ghost,  viz.  a  bloody  shirt,  a  doublet 
curiously  pinked,  and  a  coat  with  three  great  eyelet-holes  upon 
the  breast. 

*  The  Latin  poets  pretend  that  thft.  tenth  -wave  is  the  largest  and  most 
dangerous. 

t  John  Dennis,  the  critic. 


52  .     THE   TATLEPv.  t^^o.  \2. 

A  bale  of  red  Spanish  wool. 

]\Iodcrn  plots,  commonly  known  by  the  name  of  trap-doors, 
laddei'S  of  ropes,  yizard-masques,  and  tables  with  broad  carpets 
over  them. 

Three  oak-cud,G^els,  with  one  of  crab-tree  ;  all  bought  for  the 
use  of  Mr.  Pinkethman.""' 

Materials  for  dancing  ;  as  masques,  castanets,  and  a  ladder 
of  ten  rounds. 

Aurengczebe's  scymitar,  made  by  Will  Brown  in  Piccadilly. 

A  plume  of  feathers,  never  used  but  by  QEdipus  and  the 
Earl  of  Essex. 

There  are  also  swords,  halbards,  sheep-hooks,  cardinals'  hats, 
turbans,  drums,  gallipots,  a  gibbet,  a  cradle,  a  rack,  a  cart- 
wheel, an  altar,  an  helmet,  a  back-piece,  a  breast-plate,  a  l)ell, 
a  tub,  and  a  jointed  baby. 

These  are  the  hard  shifts  we  intelligencers  are  forced  to  ; 
therefore  our  readers  ought  to  excuse  us,  if  a  westerly  wind 
blowing  for  a  fortnight  together,  generally  fills  every  paper 
with  an  order  of  battle  ;  when  we  shew  our  martial  skill  in 
every  line,  and  according  to  the  space  we  have  to  fill,  we  rauge 
our  men  in  squadrons  and  battalions,  or  draw  out  company  by 
company,  and  troop  by  troop  ;  ever  observing  that  no  muster 
is  to  be  made,  but  when  the  wind  is  in  a  cross-point,  which 
often  happens  at  the  end  of  a  campaign,  when  half  the  men  are 
deserted  or  killed.f  The  Courant  is  sometimes  ten  deep,  his 
ranks  close  :  the  Post-boy  is  generally  in  files,  for  greater 
exactness  ;  and  the  Post-man  comes  down  upon  j'ou  rather 
after  the  Turkish  way,  sword  in  hand,  pell-mell,  without  form 
or  discipline  ;  but  sure  to  bring  men  enough  into  the  field  ; 
and  wherever  they  are  raised,  never  to  lose  a  battle  for  want  of 
numbers. 

*  A  low  comctly  actor  and  manager  of  a  travelling  company, 
f  A  sneer  at  the  ridiculous  military  articles  published  in  the  newspapers  of 
those  days,  introduced  perhaps  with  a  view  to  insinuate  that  the  news  articles 
in  the  Tatlcr  were  most  to  be  relied  upon  of  any  then  published. 


^"■o.  jo.]  ohlaxdo  the  fair.  53 

OELANDO  THE  FAIE. 

No.  50.    THURSDAY,  August  4,  170U.     [Steele.] 

"Whatever  malicious  men  may  say  of  our  lucubrations,  ^vc 
have  no  design  but  to  produce  unknown  merit,  or  place  in  a 
proper  light  the  actions  of  our  contemporaries  who  labour  to 
distinguish  thcmselyes,  whether  it  be  by  vice  or  virtue.  For 
w^e  shall  never  give  accounts  to  the  world  of  anything,  but 
what  the  lives  and  endeavours  of  the  persons,  of  whom  we 
treat,  make  the  basis  of  their  fame  and  reputation.  For  this 
reason,  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  our  appearance  is  reputed  a 
public  benefit ;  and  though  certain  persons  may  turn  what  we 
mean  for  panegyric  into  scandal,  let  it  be  answered  once  for 
all,  that  if  our  praises  are  really  designed  as  raillery,  such 
malevolent  persons  owe  their  safety  from  it,  only  to  their 
being  too  inconsiderable  for  history.  It  is  not  every  man  who 
deals  in  rats-bane,  or  is  unseasonably  amorous,  that  can  adorn 
story  like  J^sculapius  ;  nor  every  stock-jobber  of  the  India 
company  can  assume  the  port,  and  personate  the  figure  of 
Aurengezebe.  My  noble  ancestor,  Mr.  Shakespeare,  who  was 
of  the  race  of  the  Staffs,  was  not  more  fond  of  the  memorable 
Sir  John  FalstafF,  than  I  am  of  those  worthies  ;  but  the  Latins 
have  an  admirable  admonition  expressed  in  three  words,  to  wit, 
Ne  quid  nimis,  which  forbids  my  indulging  myself  on  those 
delightful  subjects,  and  calls  me  to  do  justice  to  others,  who 
make  no  less  figures  in  our  generation  :  of  such,  the  first  and 
most  renowned  is,  that  eminent  hero  and  lover  Orlando  *  the 

*  Robert  Fielding,  known  then  by  the  name  of  Bean  Fielding.  He  was 
tried  for  felony  at  the  Old  Bailey,  Dec.  4,  1 706.  He  had  married  Barbara, 
Duchess  of  Cleveland,  one  of  the  mistresses  of  Charles  the  Second,  having  a 
former  wife  then  living.  In  the  course  of  the  evidence  on  this  trial,  it 
appears  that  sixteen  days  before,  j\lrs.  Yillars,  a  very  bad  woman,  had  artfully 
drawn  him  into  a  marriage  with  one  ]\Iary  AVads worth,  a  spinster,  on  the 
mistaken  belief  of  her  being  Mrs.  Deleau,  a  widow,  with  a  fortune  of  £60,000. 
His  marriage  with  the  Duchess  was  therefore  set  aside,  and  her  Grace  was 
allowed  the  liberty  of  marrying  again.  Fielding  craved  the  benefit  of  clergy, 
and  when  sentence  was  given  that  he  should  be  burnt  in  his  hand,  produced 
the  Queen's  warrant  to  suspend  execution,  and  was  admitted  to  bail. 


54  THE   TATLEI?.  [Xo.  oO. 

handsome,  -whose  disappointments  in  love,  in  f^-allantry,  and  in 
war,  have  banished  him  from  pnblic  view,  and  made  him 
voluntarily  enter  into  a  confinement  to  which  the  ungrateful 
age  would  otherwise  have  forced  him.  Ten  lusira  *  and  more 
are  wholly  passed  since  Orlando  first  appeared  in  the 
metropolis  of  this  island  :  his  descent  noble,  his  wit  humorous, 
his  person  charming.  But  to  none  of  these  recommendatory 
advantages  was  his  title  so  undoubted,  as  that  of  his  beauty. 
His  complexion  was  fair,  but  his  countenance  manly  ;  his 
stature  of  the  tallest,  his  shape  the  most  exact  :  and  though  in 
all  his  limbs  he  had  a  proportion  as  delicate  as  we  see  in  the 
works  of  the  most  skilful  statuaries,  his  body  had  a  strength 
and  firmness  little  inferior  to  the  marble  of  which  such 
images  arc  formed.  This  made  Orlando  the  universal  flame  of 
all  the  fair  sex  ;  innocent  virgins  sighed  for  him,  as  Adonis  ; 
experienced  widows,  as  Hercules.  Thus  did  this  figure  walk 
alone  the  pattern  and  ornament  of  our  species,  but  of  course 
the  envy  of  all  who  had  the  same  passions  without  his  superior 
merit,  and  pretences  to  the  favour  of  that  enchanting  creature, 
woman.  However,  the  generous  Orlando  beheved  himself 
formed  for  the  world,  and  not  to  be  engrossed  by  any  particular 
affection.  He  sighed  not  for  Delia,  for  Chloris,  for  Chloe,  for 
Betty,  nor  my  lady,  nor  for  the  ready  chamber-maid,  nor 
distant  baroness  :  woman  was  his  mistress,  and  the  whole  sex 
his  seraglio.  His  form  was  always  irresistible  ;  and  if  we 
consider,  that  not  one  of  five  hundred  can  bear  the  least  favour 
from  a  lady  without  being  exalted  above  himself ;  if  also  we 
must  allow,  that  a  smile  from  a  side-box  has  made  Jack  Spruce 
half  mad :  we  cannot  think  it  wonderful  that  Orlando's  re- 
peated conquests  touched  his  brain  :  so  it  certainly  did,  and 
Orlando  became  an  enthusiast  in  love  ;  and  in  all  his  address, 
contracted  something  out  of  the  ordinary  course  of  breeding 
and  civility.  However,  powerful  as  he  was,  he  would  still  add 
to  the  advantages  of  his  person,  that  of  a  profession  which  the 
ladies  always  favour,   and   immediately  commenced    soldier. 

*  Ten  lustra  amount  to  lialf  a  century. 


Ko.  .50.]  ORLANDO    THE    FAIR. 


bo 


Thus  equipped  for  love  and  honour,  our  hero  seeks  distant 
climes  and  adventures,  and  leaves  the  despairing  nymphs  of 
Great  Britain,  to  the  courtships  of  beaux  and  witlings  till  his 
return.  His  exploits  in  foreign  nations  and  courts  have  not 
been  regularly  enough  communicated  unto  us,  to  report  them 
with  that  veracity  which  we  profess  in  our  narrations  :  but 
after  many  feats  of  arms  (which  those  who  were  witnesses  to 
them  have  suppressed  out  of  envy,  but  which  we  have  had 
faithfully  related  from  his  own  mouth  in  our  public  streets) 
Orlando  returns  home  full,  but  not  loaded,  with  years.  Beaux 
born  in  his  absence  made  it  their  business  to  decry  his  furni- 
ture, his  dress,  his  manner  ;  but  all  such  rivalry  he  suppressed 
(as  the  philosopher  did  the  sceptic,  who  argued  there  was  no 
such  thing  as  motion)  by  only  moving.  The  beauteous  Yillaria,* 
who  only  was  formed  for  his  paramour,  became  the  object  of  his 
affection.    His  first  speech  to  her  was  as  follows : 

"  Madam, 

"  It  is  not  only  that  nature  has  made  us  two  the  most 
accomplished  of  each  sex,  and  pointed  to  us  to  obey  her  dictates 
in  becoming  one ;  but  that  there  is  also  an  ambition  in  following 
the  mighty  persons  you  have  favoured.  "Where  kings  and  heroes, 
as  great  as  Alexander,  or  such  as  could  personate  Alexander,! 
have  bowed,  permit  your  general  to  lay  his  laurels." 
According  to  Milton ; 

"  The  Fair  with  conscious  majesty  approv'd 
His  pleaded  reason." 

Fortune  having  now  supplied  Orlando  with  necessaries  for 
his  high  taste  of  gallantry  and  pleasure,  his  equipage  and 
economy  had  something  in  them  more  sumptuous  and  gallant 
than  could  be  received  in  our  degenerate  age  ;  therefore  his 
figure,  though  highly  graceful,  appeared  so  exotic,  that  it 
assembled  all  the  Britons  under  the  age  of  sixteen,  who  saw 

*  Barbara,  daughter  and  heiress  of  William  Yilliers,  Viscount  Grandison. 
+  An  allusion  to  Goodman,  the  player,  who  was  one  of  the  promiscuous 
train  above  mentioned. 


56  THE    TATLEE.       «  [No.  51. 

his  grandeur,  to  follow  chariot  with  nliouts  and  acclamations  ; 
which  he  regarded  with  the  contempt  which  great  minds  affect 
in  the  midst  of  applauses.  I  remember,  I  had  the  honour  to 
see  him  one  day  stop,  and  call  the  youths  about  him,  to  whom 
he  spake  as  follows  : 

^'  Good  bastards — Go  to  school,  and  do  not  lose  your  time  in 
following  my  wheels  :  I  am  loth  to  hurt  you,  because  T  know 
not  but  you  are  all  my  own  offspring  :  hark  ye,  you  sirrah 
with  the  white  hair,  I  am  sure  you  are  mine  :  there  is  half-a- 
crown.  Tell  your  mother,  this,  with  the  half-crown  I  gave 
her  when  I  got  you,  comes  to  five  shillings.  Thou  hast  cost 
me  all  that,  and  yet  thou  art  good  for  nothing.  "Why,  you 
young  dogs,  did  you  never  see  a  man  before  ?  "  "Xever  such 
a  one  as  you,  noble  general,"  replied  a  truant  from  Westminster. 
''  Sirrah,  I  believe  thee  :  there  is  a  crown  for  thee.  Drive  on, 
coachman.*' 

This  vehicle,  though  sacred  to  love,  was  not  adorned  with 
doves  :  such  an  hieroglyphic  denoted  too  languishing  a  passion. 
Orlando  therefore  gave  the  eagle,*  as  being  of  a  constitution 
which  inclined  him  rather  to  seize  his  prey  with  talons,  than 
pine  for  it  with  murmurs. 


CONTINUATION    OF    THE    HISTORIETTE    OF 

OELANDO   THE   FAIR. 

No.  51.    SATURDAY,  August  0,  1709.    [Steele.] 

Fortune  being  now  propitious  to  the  gay  Orlando,  lie 
dressed,  he  spoke,  he  moved  as  a  man  might  be  supposed  to  do 
in  a  nation  of  pygmies,  and  had  an  equal  value  for  our 
approbation  or  dislike.  It  is  usual  for  those  who  profess  a 
contempt  for  the  world,  to  fly  from  it  and  live  in  obscurity  ; 

*  The  Fieldings  give  tlie  Spread  Eagle  as  Counts  of  the  German  Empire. 


Xo.  .31.]  OllLANDO    THE    FAIR.  .57 

but  Orlando,  with  a  greater  magnanimity,  contemned  it,  and 
appeared  in  it  to  tell  them  so.  If,  tlicrefore,  liis  exalted  mien 
met  witli  an  unwelcome  reception,  he  was  sure  always  to 
double  the  cause  which  gave  the  distaste.  You  see  our  beauties 
affect  a  negligence  in  the  ornament  of  their  hair,  and  ad- 
justing their  head-dresses,  as  conscious  that  they  adorn 
whatever  they  wear.  Orlando  had  not  only  this  humour  in 
common  with  other  beauties,  but  also  had  a  neglect  whether 
things  became  him,  or  not,  in  a  world  he  contemned.  For  this 
reason,  a  noble  particularity  appeared  in  all  his  economy, 
furniture,  and  equipage.  And  to  convince  the  present  little 
race,  how  unequal  all  their  measures  were  to  an  Antediluvian 
as  he  called  himself,  in  respect  of  the  insects  which  now  appear 
for  men,  he  sometimes  rode  in  an  open  tumbril,  of  less  size 
than  ordinary,  to  shew  the  largeness  of  his  limbs,  and  the 
grandeur  of  his  personage,  to  the  greater  advantage.  At 
other  seasons,  all  his  appointments  had  a  magnificence,  as  if  it 
were  formed  by  the  genius  of  Trimalchio  of  old,  which  shewed 
itself  in  doing  ordinary  things  with  an  air  of  pomp  and 
grandeur.  Orlando  therefore  called  for  tea  by  beat  of  drum  ; 
his  valet  got  ready  to  shave  him  by  a  trumpet  to  horse ;  and 
water  was  brought  for  his  teeth,  when  the  sound  was  changed 
to  boots  and  saddle. 

In  all  these  glorious  excesses  from  the  common  practice 
did  the  haj^py  Orlando  live  and  reign  in  an  uninterrupted 
tranquillity,  until  an  unlucky  accident  brought  to  his  remem- 
brance, that  one  evening  he  was  married  before  he  courted 
the  nuptials  of  Yillaria.  Several  fatal  memorandums  were 
produced  to  revive  the  memory  of  this  accident ;  and  the 
unhappy  lover  was  for  ever  banished  her  presence,  to  whom  he 
owed  the  support  of  his  just  renown  and  gallantry.  But 
distress  does  not  debase  noble  minds  ;  it  only  changes  the 
scene,  and  gives  them  new  glory  by  that  alteration.  Orlando 
therefore  now  raves  in  a  garret,  and  calls  to  his  neighbour-skies 
to  pity  his  dolours,  and  to  find  redress  for  an  unhappy  lover. 
All  high  spirits,  in  any  great  agitation  of  mind,  are  inclined 
to   relieve    themselves  by   poetry  :    the   renowned   porter   of 

F  2 


58  THE    TATLER.  [No.  52. 

Oliver  *  had  not  more  volumes  around  his  cell  in  his  college  of 
Bedlam,  than  Orlando  in  his  present  apartment.  And  though 
inserting  poetry  in  the  midst  of  prose  be  thought  a  license 
among  correct  writers  not  to  be  indulged,  it  is  hoped  the  ne- 
cessity of  doing  it,  to  give  a  just  idea  of  the  hereof  whom  we  treat, 
will  plead  for  the  liberty  we  shall  hereafter  take,  to  print 
Orlando's  soliloquies  in  verse  and  prose,  after  the  manner  of 
great  wits,  and  such  as  those  to  whom  they  are  nearly  allied. 


DELAMIEA. 

No.  52.    TUESDAY,  August  9,  1700.    [Steele.] 

Long  had  the  crowd  of  the  gay  and  young  stood  in  suspense, 
as  to  their  fate  in  their  passion  to  the  beauteous  Delamira ; 
but  all  their  hopes  are  lately  vanished,  by  the  declaration 
that  she  has  made  of  her  choice,  to  take  the  happy  Archibald  f 
for  her  companion  for  life.  Upon  her  making  this  known,  the 
expense  of  sweet  powder  and  jessamine  are  considerably 
abated  ;  and  the  mercers  and  milliners  complain  of  her  want  of 
public  spirit,  in  not  concealing  longer  a  secret  which  was  so 
much  the  benefit  of  trade.  But  so  it  has  happened  ;  and  no 
one  was  in  confidence  with  her  in  carrying  on  this  treaty,  but 
the  matchless  Yirgulta,  whose  despair  of  ever  entering  the 
matrimonial  state  made  her,  some  nights  before  Delamira's 
resolution  was  pubhshed  to  the  world,  address  herself  to  her 
in  the  following  manner  : 

*  Croimvell's  porter  is  said  to  have  been  tlie  original  from  wliicL  Gains 
Gabriel,  father  of  Collcy  Gibber,  copied  one  of  the  Innatic  figures  on  Bedlam 

gate. 

\  Lord  Archibald  Hamilton,  of  Motherwell,  son  of  William,  third  Duke  of 
Hamilton,  was  probably  the  luq-ipy  Archibald  here  meant.  He  was  member 
of  Parliament  for  Lanarkshire,  afterwards  Governor  of  Jamaica,  and  about 
this  time  married  Lady  Jane  Hamilton,  youngest  daughter  of  James,  Earl  of 
Abercorn.  It  seems  to  follow  that  Lady  Jane  Hamilton,  who  died  at  Paris  in 
1752,  was  the  Delamira  here  celebrated 


No.  52.]  DELAMIRA.  59 

"  Delamira  !  you  are  now  going  into  that  state  of  life 
-wherein  the  use  of  your  charms  is  wholly  to  be  apphed  to  the 
pleasing  only  one  man.  That  swimming  air  of  your  body, 
that,  janty  bearing  of  your  head  over  one  shoulder,  and  that 
inexpressible  beauty  in  your  manner  of  playing  your  Fan, 
must  be  lowered  into  a  more  confined  behaviour  ;  to  shew,  that 
you  would  rather  shun  than  receive  addresses  for  the  future. 
Therefore,  dear  Delamira  !  give  me  those  excellencies  you  leave 
off  and  acquaint  me  with  your  manner  of  charming  ;  for  I  take 
the  liberty  of  our  friendship  to  say,  that  when  I  consider  my 
own  stature,  motion,  complexion,  wit,  or  breeding,  I  cannot 
think  myself  any  way  your  inferior  ;  yet  do  I  go  through 
crowds  without  wounding  a  man,  and  all  my  acquaintance 
marry  round  me,  while  I  live  a  virgin  unasked,  and  I  think 
unregarded." 

Delamira  heard  her  with  great  attention,  and,  with  that 
dexterity  which  is  natui-al  to  her,  told  her,  that  "  all  she  had 
above  the  rest  of  her  sex  and  contemporary  beauties  was 
wholly  owing  to  a  Fan,  (that  was  left  her  by  her  mother,  and 
had  been  long  in  the  flimily)  which  whoever  had  in  possession 
and  used  with  skill,  should  command  the  hearts  of  all  her 
beholders  :  and  since,"  said  she  smiling,  "  I  have  no  more  to  do 
with  extending  my  conquests  or  triumphs,  I  will  make  you  a 
present  of  this  inestimable  rarity."  Virgulta  made  her 
expressions  of  the  highest  gratitude  for  so  uncommon  a  confi- 
dence in  her,  and  desired  she  would  ''show  her  what  was 
peculiar  in  the  management  of  that  utensil,  which  rendered  it 
of  such  general  force  while  she  was  mistress  of  it."  Delamira 
replied,  "  You  see,  madam,  Cupid  is  the  principal  figure  painted 
on  it  ;  and  the  skill  in  playing  this  Fan  is,  in  your  several 
motions  of  it,  to  let  him  appear  as  little  as  possible  ;  for 
honourable  lovers  fly  all  endeavours  to  ensnare  them  ;  and 
your  Cupid  must  hide  his  bow  and  arrow,  or  he  will  never  be 
sure  of  his  game.  You  may  observe,"  continued  she,  ''  that  in 
all  public  assemblies,  the  sexes  seem  to  separate  themselves, 
and  draw  up  to  attack  each  other  with  eye-shot :  that  is  the 
time  when  the  Fan,  which  is  all  the  armour  of  a  woman,  is  of 


60  THE    TATLER.  [Xo. 


nO 


most  use  in  our  defence  ;  for  our  minds  arc  construed  by  the 
waving  of  that  little  instrument,  and  our  thoughts  appear  in 
composure  or  agitation,  according  to  the  motion  of  it.  You 
may  observe,  when  Will  Peregrine  comes  into  the  side-box, 
Miss  Gatty  flutters  her  fan,  as  a  fly  does  its  wings  round  a 
candle  ;  while  her  eldest  sister,  who  is  as  much  in  love  with 
him  as  she  is,  is  as  grave  as  a  vestal  at  his  entrance  ;  and  the 
consequence  is  accordingly.  He  watches  half  the  play  for  a 
glance  from  her  sister,  while  Gatty  is  overlooked  and 
neglected.  I  wish  you  heartily  as  much  success  in  the  manage- 
ment of  it  as  I  have  had  :  If  you  think  fit  to  go  on  where  I 
left  off,  I  will  give  you  a  short  account  of  the  execution  I  have 
made  with  it. 

*'Cimon,  who  is  the  dullest  of  mortals,  and  though  a 
wonderful  great  scholar,  does  not  only  pause,  but  seems  to 
take  a  nap  with  his  eyes  open  between  every  other  sentence  in 
his  discourse  :  him  have  I  made  a  leader  in  assemblies  ;  and 
one  blow  on  the  shoulder  as  I  passed  by  him  has  raised  him  to 
a  downright  impertinent  in  all  conversations.  The  airy  Will 
Sampler  is  become  as  lethargic  by  this  my  wand,  as  Cimon  is 
sprightly.  Take  it,  good  girl,  and  use  it  without  mercy  ;  for 
the  reign  of  beauty  never  lasted  fall  three  years,  but  it  ended 
in  marriage,  or  condemnation  to  virginity.  As  you  fear  there- 
fore, the  one,  and  hope  for  the  other,  I  expect  an  hourly 
journal  of  your  triumphs  ;  for  I  have  it  by  certain  tradition, 
that  it  was  given  to  the  first  Nvho  wore  it,  by  an  enchantress, 
with  this  remarkable  power,  that  it  bestows  a  Imsband  in  half 
a  year  on  her  who  does  not  overlook  her  proper  minute  ;  but 
assigns  to  a  long  despair  the  woman  who  is  well  offered,  and 
neglects  that  proposal.  May  occasion  attend  your  charms,  and 
your  charms  slip  no  occasion  !  Give  me,  I  sa}^,  an  account  of 
the  progress  of  your  forces  at  our  next  meeting  ;  and  you  shall 
liear  what  I  think  of  my  new  condition.  I  should  meet  my 
future  spouse  this  moment.  Farewell.  Live  in  just  terror  of 
the  dreadful  words,  She  was." 


Xo.  53.]  THE    CIVIL    HUSBAXD.  CI 

THE  CIVIL  HUSBAND. 

No.  53.    THURSDAY,  August  11,  1709.    [Steele.] 

The  fate  and  character  of  the  inconstant  Osmyn  is  a  just 
excuse  for  the  little  notice  taken  bj  his  widow  of  his  departure 
out  of  this  life,  which  was  equally  troublesome  to  Elmira,  his 
faithful  spouse,  and  to  himself.  That  life  passed  between  them 
after  this  manner,  is  the  reason  the  town  has  just  now  received 
a  lady  with  all  that  gaiety,  after  having  been  a  relict  l)ut  three 
months,  which  other  women  hardly  assume  under  fifteen,  after 
such  a  disaster.  Elmira  is  the  daughter  of  a  rich  and  worthy 
citizen,  who  gave  her  to  Osmyn,  with  a  portion  which  might 
have  obtained  her  an  alliance  with  our  noblest  houses,  and 
fixed  her  in  the  eye  of  the  world,  where  her  story  had  not  been 
now  to  be  related  :  for  her  good  qualities  had  made  her  the 
object  of  universal  esteem  among  the  polite  part  of  mankind, 
from  whom  she  has  been  banished  and  immured  until  the 
death  of  her  gaoler.  It  is  now  full  fifteen  years  since  that 
beauteous  lady  was  given  into  the  hands  of  the  happy  Osmyn, 
who,  in  the  sense  of  all  the  world,  received  at  that  time  a 
present  more  valuable  than  the  possession  of  both  the  Indies. 
She  was  then  in  her  early  bloom,  with  an  understanding  and 
discretion  very  little  inferior  to  the  most  experienced  matrons. 
She  was  not  beholden  to  the  charms  of  her  sex,  that  her 
company  was  preferable  to  any  Osmyn  could  meet  with 
abroad  ;  for  were  all  she  said  considered  without  regard  to  her 
being  a  woman,  it  might  stand  the  examination  of  the  severest 
judges.  She  had  all  the  beauty  of  her  own  sex,  with  all  the 
conversation-accomplishments  of  ours.  But  Osmyn  very  soon 
grew  surfeited  with  the  charms  of  her  person  by  possession, 
and  of  her  mind  by  want  of  taste ;  for  he  was  one  of  that 
loose  sort  of  men,  who  have  but  one  reason  for  setting  any 
value  upon  the  fair  sex  ;  who  consider  even  brides  but  as  new 
women,  and  consequently  neglect  them  when  they  cease  to  be 
such.    All  the  merit  of  Elmira  could  not  prevent  her  becoming 


62  THE    TATLER.  t^'o-  53. 

a  mere  wife  within  few  months  after  her  nuptials  ;  and  Osmyn 
had  so  little  relish  for  her  conversation,  that  he  complained  of 
the  advantages  of  it.  "  My  spouse,"  said  he  to  one  of  his  com- 
panions, "  is  so  very  discreet,  so  good,  so  virtuous,  and  I  know 
not  what,  that  I  think  her  person  is  rather  the  object  of  esteem 
than  of  love  ;  and  there  is  such  a  thing  as  a  merit  which  causes 
rather  distance  than  passion."  But  there  being  no  medium  in 
the  state  of  matrimony,  their  life  began  to  take  the  nsual  gra- 
dations to  become  the  most  irksome  of  all  beings.  They  grew 
in  the  first  place  very  complaisant ;  and  having  at  heart  a 
certain  knowledge  that  they  were  indifferent  to  each  other, 
apologies  were  made  for  every  little  circumstance  which  they 
thought  betrayed  their  mutual  coldness.  This  lasted  but  few 
months,  when  they  shewed  a  difference  of  opinion  in  every 
trifle  ;  and,  as  a  sign  of  certain  decay  of  affection,  the  word 
"  perhaps  "  was  introduced  in  all  their  discourse.  "  I  have  a 
mind  to  go  to  the  park,"  says  she  ;  "  but  perhaps,  my  dear, 
you  will  want  the  coach  on  some  other  occasion."  Pie  "  would 
very  willingly  carry  her  to  the  play  ;  but  perhaps  she  had 
rather  go  to  lady  Centaur's  *  and  play  at  ombre."  They  were 
both  persons  of  good  discerning,  and  soon  found  that  they 
mortally  hated  each  other,  by  their  manner  of  hiding  it. 
Certain  it  is,  that  there  are  some  genio's  which  are  not 
capable  of  pure  affection,  and  a  man  is  born  with  talents  for  it 
as  much  as  for  poetry  or  any  other  science. 

Osmyn  began  too  late  to  find  the  imperfection  of  his  own 
heart  ;  and  used  all  the  methods  in  the  world  to  correct  it, 
and  argue  himself  into  return  of  desire  and  passion  for  his 
wife,  by  the  contemplation  of  her  excellent  qualities,  his  great 
obligations  to  her,  and  the  high  value  he  saw  all  the  world 
except  himself  did  put  upon  her.  But  such  is  man's  unhappy 
condition,  that  though  the  weakness  of  the  heart  has  a  prevail- 
ing power  over  the  strength  of  the  head,  yet  the  strength  of 
the  head  has  but  small  force  against  the  weakness  of  the  heart. 
OsmjTi,  therefore,  struggled  in  vain  to  revive  departed  desire  ; 

*  The  name  of  one  of  the  characters  in  Ben  Jonson's  "Silent  Woman." 


No,  53.]  THE    CIVIL    HUSBAND.  63 

and  for  that  reason  resolved  to  retire  to  one  of  his  estates  in 
the  country,  and  pass  away  his  hours  of  wedlock  in  the  noble 
diversions  of  the  field  ;  and  in  the  fury  of  a  disappointed  lover, 
made  an  oath  to  leave  neither  stag,  fox,  or  hare  living,  during 
the  days  of  his  wife.  Besides  that  country-sports  would  be  an 
amusement,  he  hoped  also,  that  his  spouse  would  be  half-killed 
by  the  very  sense  of  seeing  this  town  no  more,  and  would  think 
her  life  ended  as  soon  as  she  left  it.  He  commi;inicated  his 
design  to  Elmira,  who  received  it,  as  now  she  did  all  things, 
like  a  person  too  unhappy  to  be  relieved  or  afflicted  by  the 
circumstance  of  j)lace.  This  unexpected  resignation  made 
Osrayn  resolve  to  be  as  obliging  to  her  as  possible  :  and  if  he 
could  not  prevail  upon  himself  to  be  kind,  he  took  a  resolution 
at  least  to  act  sincerely,  and  communicate  frankly  to  her  the 
weakness  of  his  temper,  to  excuse  the  indifference  of  his 
behaviour.  He  disposed  his  household  in  the  way  to  liutland, 
BO  as  he  and  his  lady  travelled  only  in  the  coach,  for  the  con- 
venience of  discourse.  They  had  not  gone  many  miles  out  of 
town,  when  Osmyn  spoke  to  this  purpose  : 

"  My  dear,  I  believe  I  look  quite  as  silly  now  I  am  going  to 
tell  you  I  do  not  love  you,  as  when  I  first  told  you  I  did.  AVe 
are  now  going  into  the  country  together,  with  only  one  hope 
of  making  this  life  agreeable,  survivorship  ;  desire  is  not  in 
our  power  ;  mine  is  all  gone  for  you.  AYhat  shall  we  do  to 
carry  it  with  decency  to  the  world,  and  hate  one  another  with 
discretion  ?" 

The  lady  answered,  without  the  least  observation  on  the 
extravagance  of  his  speech  : 

"  My  dear,  you  have  lived  most  of  your  days  in  a  court,  and 
I  have  not  been  wholly  unacquainted  with  that  sort  of  life. 
In  courts,  you  see  good-will  is  spoken  with  great  warmth,  ill. 
will  covered  with  great  civility.  Men  are  long  in  civilities  to 
those  they  hate,  and  short  in  expressions  of  kindness  to  those 
they  love.  Therefore,  my  dear,  let  us  be  well-bred  still ;  and 
it  is  no  matter,  as  to  all  who  see  us,  whether  we  love  or  hate  : 
and  to  let  you  see  how  much  you  are  beholden  to  me  for  my 
conduct,  I  have  both  hated  and  despised  you,  my  dear,  this 


64  THE    TATLER.  [Xo.  55. 

half  year  ;  and  jet  neither  in  language  or  behaviour  has  it 
been  visible  but  that  I  loved  vou  tenderly.  Therefore,  as  I 
know  you  go  out  of  town  to  divert  life  in  pursuit  of  beasts, 
and  conversation  with  men  just  above  them  ;  so,  my  life,  from 
this  moment,  I  shall  read  all  the  learned  cooks  who  have  ever 
writ  ;  study  broths,  plasters,  and  conserves,  until  from  a  fine 
lady  I  become  a  notable  woman.  We  must  take  our  minds  a 
note  or  two  lower,  or  we  shall  be  tortured  by  jealousy,  or  anger. 
Thus,  I  am  resolved  to  kill  all  keen  passions,  by  employing  my 
mind  on  little  subjects,  and  lessening  the  easiness  of  my  spirit ; 
while  you,  my  dear,  with  much  ale,  exercise,  and  ill-company, 
are  so  good  as  to  endeavour  to  be  as  contemptible,  as  it  is 
necessary  for  my  quiet  I  should  think  you." 

At  Eutland  they  arrived,  and  lived  with  great  but  secret 
impatience  for  many  successive  years,  until  Osmyn  thought  of 
an  happy  expedient  to  give  their  affairs  a  new  turn.  One  day 
he  took  Elmira  aside,  and  spoke  as  follows  : 

"My  dear,  you  see  here  the  air  is  so  temperate  and  serene  ; 
the  rivulets,  the  groves,  and  soil,  so  extremely  kind  to  nature, 
that  we  are  stronger  and  firmer  in  our  health  since  we  left  the 
town  ;  so  that  there  is  no  hope  of  a  release  in  this  place  ;  but 
if  you  will  be  so  kind  as  to  go  with  me  to  my  estate  in  the 
hundreds  of  Essex,  it  is  possible  some  kind  damp  may  one  day 
or  other  relieve  us.  If  you  will  condescend  to  accept  of  this 
offer,  I  will  add  that  whole  estate  to  your  jointure  in  this 
county." 

Elmira,  who  was  all  goodness,  accepted  the  offer,  removed 
accordingly,  and  has  left  her  spouse  in  that  place  to  rest  with 
his  fathers. 

This  is  the  real  figure  in  which  Elmira  ought  to  be  beheld 
in  this  town  ;  and  not  thought  guilty  of  an  indecorum,  in  not 
professing  the  sense,  or  bearing  the  habit  of  sorrow,  for  one 
who  robbed  her  of  all  the  endearments  of  life,  and  gave  her 
only  common  civility,  instead  of  complacency  of  manners, 
dignity  of  passion,  and  that  constant  assemblage  of  soft  desires 
and  affections  which  all  feel  who  love,  but  none  can  express. 


No.  51.]  THE    DEAN    OF    ST.    PAUL'S.  65 

THE  DEAN  OF  ST.  PAUL'S. 

No.  54.    SATUPtDAY,  August  13,  1709.    [Steele.] 

As  we  have  professed  tliat  all  the  actions  of  men  are  our 
subject,  the  most  solemn  are  not  to  be  omitted,  if  there  happens 
to  creep  into  their  behaviour  anything  improper  for  such  occa- 
sions. Therefore  the  offence  mentioned  in  the  following 
epistles,  though  it  may  seem  to  be  committed  in  a  place  sacred 
from  observation,  is  such,  that  it  is  our  duty  to  remark  upon  it  : 
for,  though  he  who  does  it  is  himself  only  guilty  of  an  inde- 
corum, he  occasions  a  criminal  levity  in  all  others  who  are 
present  at  it. 

"  St.  Paul's  Chuechyard,  August  11, 

"Mr.  Bickerstaff, 

"  It  being  mine  as  well  as  the  opinion  of  many  others, 
that  your  papers  are  extremely  well  fitted  to  reform  any 
irregular  or  indecent  practice,  I  present  the  following  as  one 
which  requires  your  correction.  Myself,  and  a  great  many 
good  people  who  frequent  the  divine  service  at  St.  Paul's,  have 
been  a  long  time  scandalized  by  the  imprudent  conduct  of 
Stentor*  in  that  cathedral.  This  gentleman,  you  must  know,  is 
always  very  exact  and  zealous  in  his  devotion,  which  I  believe 
nobody  blames  ;  but  then  he  is  accustomed  to  roar  and  bellow 
so  terribly  loud  in  the  responses,  that  he  frightens  even  us  of 
the  congregation  who  are  daily  used  to  him  :  and  one  of  our 
petty  canons,  a  punning  Cambridge  scholar,  calls  his  way  of 
worship  a  Bull-offering.  His  harsh  untuneable  pipe  is  no  more 
fit  than  a  raven's  to  join  with  the  music  of  a  choir ;  yet, 
nobody  having  been  enough  his  friend,  I  suppose,  to  infoim 
him  of  it,  he  never  fails,  when  present,  to  drown  the  harmony 
of  every  hymn  and  anthem,  l)y  an  inundation  of  sound  beyond 
that  of  the  bridge  at  the  ebb  of  the  tide,  or  the  neighbouring 
lions  in  the  anguish  of  their  hunger.     This  is  a  grievance, 

*  Dr.  William  Stanley,  Dean  of  St.  Paul's. 


66  THE    TATLER.  [No.  54. 

which,  to  my  certain  knowledge,  several  worthy  people  desire 
to  see  redressed  ;  and  if  by  inserting  this  epistle  in  your  paper, 
or  by  representing  the  matter  your  own  way,  you  can  convince 
Stentor,  that  discord  in  a  choir  is  the  same  sin  that  schism  is 
in  the  church  in  general,  you  would  lay  a  great  obligation  upon 
us  ;  and  make  some  atonement  for  certain  of  your  paragraphs, 
which  have  not  been  highly  approved  by  us.     I  am.  Sir, 

"  Your  most  humble  servant, 

"  Jeoffry  Chanticleer." 

It  is  wonderful  that  there  should  be  such  a  general  lamenta- 
tion, and  the  grievance  so  frequent,  and  yet  the  offender  never 
know  anything  of  it.  I  have  received  the  following  letter 
from  my  kinsman  at  the  Ileralds-office,  near  the  same  place. 

"  Dear  Cousin, 

"  This  office,  which  has  had  its  share  in  the  impartial 
justice  of  your  censures,  demands  at  present  your  vindication 
of  their  rights  and  privileges.  There  are  certain  hours  when 
our  young  heralds  are  exercised  in  the  faculties  of  making  pro- 
clamation, and  other  vociferations,  which  of  right  belong  to  us 
only  to  utter  :  but  at  the  same  hours  Stentor  in  St.  Paul's 
church,  in  spite  of  the  coaches,  carts,  London  cries,  and  all 
other  sounds  between  us,  exalts  his  throat  to  so  high  a  key, 
that  the  most  noisy  of  our  order  is  utterly  unheard.  If  you 
please  to  observe  upon  this,  you  will  ever  oblige,  &c." 

There  have  been  communicated  to  me  some  other  ill  conse- 
quences from  the  same  cause ;  as,  the  overturning  of  coaches 
by  sudden  starts  of  the  horses  as  they  passed  that  way,  women 
pregnant  frightened,  and  heirs  to  families  lost  ;  which  are 
public  disasters,  though  arising  from  a  good  intention  :  but  it 
is  hoped,  after  this  admonition,  that  Stentor  will  avoid  an  act 
of  so  great  supererogation,  as  singing  without  a  voice. 


No.  56.]  THE    SnARPER.  67 

THE   SHAEPEB.* 

No.  50.    THURSDAY,  August  18,  1709.    [Steele.] 

There  is  a  young  foreigner  committed  to  my  care,  who 
puzzles  me  extremely  in  the  questions  he  asks  about  the  persons 
of  figure  we  meet  in  public  places.  He  has  but  very  little  of 
our  language,  and  therefore  I  am  mightily  at  a  loss  to  express 
to  him  things  for  which  they  have  no  word  in  that  tongue  to 
which  he  was  born.  It  has  been  often  my  answer,  upon  his 
asking  who  such  a  fine  gentleman  is  ?  That  he  is  what  we 
call  a  Sharper  :  and  he  wants  my  explication.  I  thought  it 
would  be  very  unjust  to  tell  him,  he  is  the  same  the  French 
call  Coqum  ;  the  Latins,  NeluJo  ;  or  the  Greeks,  Pao-/caX  :  for, 
as  custom  is  the  most  powerful  of  all  laws,  and  that  the  order 
of  men  we  call  Sharpers  are  received  amongst  us,  not  only  with 
permission,  but  favour,  I  thought  it  unjust  to  use  them  like 
persons  upon  no  establishment ;  besides  that  it  would  be 
unpardonable  dishonour  to  our  country,  to  let  him  leave  us 
with  an  opinion,  that  our  nobility  and  gentry  keep  company 
with  common  thieves  and  cheats:  I  told  him,  '^ they  were  a 
sort  of  tame  Hussars,  that  were  allowed  in  our  cities,  like  the 
wild  ones  in  our  camp  ;  who  had  all  the  privileges  belonging  to 
us,  but  at  the  same  time  were  not  tied  to  our  discipline  or  laws." 
Aletheus,  who  is  a  gentleman  of  too  much  virtue  for  the  age  he 
lives  in,  would  not  let  this  matter  be  thus  palliated  ;  but  told  my 
pupil,  "  that  he  was  to  understand  that  distinction,  quality, 
merit,  and  industry,  were  laid  aside  among  us  by  the  incursions 
of  these  civil  hussars ;  who  had  got  so  much  countenance, 
that  the  breeding  and  fashion  of  the  age  turned  their  way  to 
the  ruin  of  order  and  economy  in  all  places  where  they  are 

*  This  is  the  first  of  some  excellent  papers,  in  which  Steele  employed  his 
wit  in  exposing  the  gamesters,  sharpers,  and  swindlers  of  his  time,  with  a 
view  to  guard  his  unwary  countrymen  from  their  snares,  and  "to  banish 
fraud  and  cozenage  from  the  presence  and  conversation  of  gentlemen." 


68  THE    TATLER.  [No.  56. 

admitted."  But  Sophronius,  who  never  falls  into  heat  upon 
any  subject,  but  applies  proper  language,  temper,  and  skill 
with  which  the  thing  in  debate  is  to  be  treated,  told  the  youth 
"  that  gentleman  had  spoken  nothing  but  what  was  literally 
true  ;  but  fell  upon  it  with  too  much  earnestness  to  give  a  true 
idea  of  that  sort  of  people  he  was  declaiming  against,  or  to 
remedy  the  evil  which  he  bewailed  :  for  the  acceptance  of  these 
men  being  an  ill  which  had  crept  into  the  conversation-part  of 
our  lives,  and  not  into  our  constitution  itself,  it  must  be  cor-' 
rected  where  it  began  :  and  consequently  is  to  be  amended  only 
by  bringing  raillery  and  derision  upon  the  persons  who  are 
guilty,  or  those  who  converse  with  them.  "  For  the  Sharpers," 
continued  he,  "at  present  are  not  as  formerly,  under  the 
acceptation  of  pick-pockets  ;  but  are  by  custom  erected  into  a 
real  and  venerable  body  of  men,  and  have  subdued  us  to  so  very 
particular  a  deference  to  them,  that  though  they  are  known  to 
be  men  without  honour  or  conscience,  no  demand  is  called  a 
debt  of  honour  so  indisputably  as  theirs.  You  may  lose  your 
honour  to  them,  but  they  lay  none  against  you  ;  as  the  priest- 
hood in  Roman  catholic  countries  can  purchase  what  they 
please  for  the  church,  but  they  can  alienate  nothing  from  it. 
It  is  from  this  toleration,  that  Sharpers  are  to  be  found  among 
all  sorts  of  assemblies  and  companies  ;  and  every  talent  amongst 
men  is  made  use  of  by  some  one  or  other  of  the  society,  for  the 
good  of  their  common  cause  :  so  that  an  unexperienced  young 
gentleman  is  as  often  ensnared  by  his  understanding  as  his 
folly  ;  for  who  could  be  unmoved,  to  hear  the  eloquent  Dromio 
explain  the  constitution,  talk  in  the  key  of  Cato,  with  the 
severity  of  one  of  the  ancient  sages,  and  debate  the  greatest 
question  of  state  in  a  common  chocolate  or  coffee-house  ?  who 
could,  I  say,  hear  this  generous  declamator,  without  being  fired 
at  his  noble  zeal,  and  becoming  his  professed  follower,  if  he  might 
be  admitted  ?  Monoculus's*  gravity  would  be  no  less  inviting  to 
a  beginner  in  conversation  ;  and  the  snare  of  his  eloquence 
would  equally  catch  one  who  had  never  seen  an  old  gentleman  so 

*  ]\ronoculus  ^vas  supposed  to  mean  Sir  Humphrey  Moneux. 


Xo.  56.]  THE    SIIAltrEIl.  69 

very  wise,  and  yet  so  little  severe.  Many  other  instances  of 
extraordinary  men  among  the  brotherhood  might  Ije  produced  ; 
but  every  man,  who  knows  the  town,  can  supply  himself  with 
such  examples  without  their  being  named." — AVill  Yafer,  who  is 
skilful  at  finding  out  the  ridiculous  side  of  a  thing,  and  placing 
it  in  a  new  and  proper  light,  though  he  very  seldom  talks, 
thought  fit  to  enter  into  this  subject.  He  has  lately  lost  certain 
loose  sums,  which  half  the  income  of  his  estate  will  brinsr  in 
v\'ithin  seven  years  :  besides  which,  he  proposes  to  marry,  to  set 
all  right.  He  was,  therefore,  indolent  enough  to  speak  of  this 
matter  with  great  impartiality.  '^  When  I  look  around  me," said 
this  easy  gentleman,  "•  and  consider  in  a  just  balance  us  lullles, 
elder  brothers  whose  support  our  dull  fathers  contrived  to 
depend  upon  certain  acres,  with  the  rooks,  whose  ancestors  left 
them  the  wide  world  ;  I  cannot  but  admire  their  fraternity,  and 
contemn  my  own.  Is  not  Jack  Heyday  much  to  be  joreferred 
to  the  knight  he  has  bubbled  ?  Jack  has  his  equipage,  his 
wenches,  and  his  followers  :  the  knight,  so  far  from  a  retinue, 
that  he  is  almost  one  of  Jack's.     However,  he  is  gay,  you  see, 

still  j  a  florid  outside. His  habit   speaks   the   man — And 

since  he  must  unbutton,  he  would  not  be  reduced  outwardly, 
but  is  stripped  to  his  upper  coat.  But  though  I  have  great 
temptation  to  it,  I  will  not  at  this  time  give  the  history  of  the 
losing  side  ;  but  speak  the  effects  of  my  thoughts,  since  the  loss 
of  my  money,  upon  the  gaining  people.  This  ill  fortune  makes 
most  men  contemplative  and  given  to  reading  ;  at  least  it  has 
happened  so  to  me ;  and  the  rise  and  fall  of  the  family  of 
Sharpers  in  all  ages  has  been  my  contemplation." 

I  find,  all  times  have  had  of  this  people  :  Homer,  in  his 
excellent  heroic  poem,  calls  them  Myrmidons,  who  were  a  body 
that  kept  among  themselves,  and  had  nothing  to  lose  ;  there- 
fore never  spared  either  Greek  or  Trojan,  w^hen  they  fell  m 
their  way,  upon  a  party.  But  there  is  a  memorable  verse, 
which  gives  us  an  account  of  what  broke  that  whole  body,  and 
made  both  Greeks  and  Trojans  masters  of  the  secret  of  their 
warfare  and  plunder.  There  is  nothing  so  pedantic  as  many 
quotations  ;  therefore  I  shall  inform  you  only,  that  in  this  bat- 


70  THE    TATLER.  ^  [No.  56. 

talion  there  were  two  officers  called  Thersites  and  Pandarus  : 
they  were  both  less  renowned  for  their  beauty  than  their  wit ; 
but  each  had  this  particular  happiness,  that  they  were  plunged 
over  head  and  ears  in  the  same  water  which  made  Achilles 
invulnerable  ;  and  had  ever  after  certain  gifts,  which  the  rest 
of  the  world  were  never  to  enjoy.  Among  others,  they  were 
never  to  know  they  were  the  most  dreadful  to  the  sight  of  all 
mortals,  never  to  be  diffident  of  their  own  abilities,  never  to 
blush,  or  ever  to  be  wounded  but  by  each  other.  Though  some 
historians  say,  gaming  began  among  the  Lydians,  to  divert 
hunger,  I  could  cite  many  authorities  to  prove  it  had  its  rise  at 
the  siege  of  Troy  ;  and  that  Ulysses  won  the  sevenfold  shield 
at  hazard.  But  be  that  as  it  may,  the  ruin  of  the  corps  of  the 
Myrmidons  proceeded  from  a  breach  between  Thersites  aud 
Pandarus.  The  first  of  these  was  leader  of  a  squadron,  wherein 
thelatter  was  but  aprivate  man ;  but  having  all  the  good  qualities 
necessary  for  a  partisan,  he  was  the  favourite  of  his  officer.  But 
the  whole  history  of  the  several  changes  in  the  order  of 
Sharpers,  from  those  Myrmidons  to  our  modern  men  of  address 
and  plunder,  will  require  that  we  consult  some  ancient  manu- 
scripts. As  we  make  these  enquiries,  we  shall  diurnally 
communicate  them  to  the  public,  that  the  Knights  of  the 
Industry  may  be  better  understood  by  the  good  people  of 
England.  These  sort  of  men,  in  some  ages,  were  sycophants 
and  flatterers  only,  and  were  endued  with  arts  of  life  to 
capacitate  them  for  the  conversation  of  the  rich  and  great ; 
but  now  the  bubble  courts  the  impostor,  and  pretends  at  the 
utmost  to  be  but  his  equal.  To  clear  up  the  reasons  and 
causes  in  such  revolutions,  and  the  different  conduct  between 
fools  and  cheats,  shall  be  one  of  our  labours  for  the  good  of  this 
kingdom.  How  therefore  pimps,  footmen,  fidlers,  and  lacqueys, 
are  elevated  into  companions  in  this  present  age,  shall  be 
accounted  for  from  the  influence  of  the  planet  Mercury  *  on 
this  island  ;  the  ascendency  of  which  Sharper  over  Sol,  who  is 
a  patron  of  the  Muses  and  all  honest  professions,  has  been 

*  Mercury  was  the  god  of  thieves. 


Xo.  57.]  HARRY    COPPERSMITn.  71 

noted  by  the  learned  Job  Gadbiiry,*  to  be  the  cause,  that 
*' cunning  and  trick  are  more  esteemed  than  art  and  science." 
It  must  be  allowed  also,  to  the  memory  of  Mr.  Partridge,  late 
of  Cecil  Street,  in  the  Strand,  that  in  his  answer  to  an  horary 
question,  At  what  hour  of  the  night  to  set  a  fox-trap  in  June 
1705  ?  he  has  largely  discussed,  under  the  character  of 
Reynard,  the  manner  of  surprising  all  Sharpers  as  well  as  him. 
But  of  these  great  points,  after  more  mature  deliberation. 


HAEEY  COPPERSMITH. 

No.  57.     SATURDAY,  August  20,  1709.    [Steele.] 

SixcE  my  last,  I  have  received  a  letter  from  Tom  Trump,  to 
desire  that  I  would  do  the  fraternity  of  gamesters  the  justice  to 
own,  that  there  are  notorious  Sharpers,  who  are  not  of  their 
class.  Among  others  he  presented  me  with  the  picture  of 
Harry  Coppersmith,  in  little,  who,  he  says,  is  at  this  day  worth 
half  a  plum,f  by  means  much  more  indirect  than  by  false  dice. 
I  must  confess,  there  appeared  some  reason  in  what  he  asserted  ; 
and  he  met  me  since,  and  accosted  me  in  the  following  manner  : 
*'  It  is  wonderful  to  me,  LIr.  BickerstaflP,  that  you  can  pretend 
to  be  a  man  of  penetration,  and  fall  upon  us  Knights  of 
the  Industry  as  the  wickedest  of  mortals,  when  there  are  so 
many  who  live  in  the  constant  practice  of  baser  methods  un- 
observed. You  cannot,  tliough  you  know  the  story  of  myself 
and  the  North  Briton,  but  allow  I  am  an  honester  man  than 
Will  Coppersmith,  for  all  his  great  credit  among  the  Lombards  • 
I  get  my  money  by  men's  follies,  and  he  gets  his  by  their  dis- 
tresses. The  declining  merchant  communicates  his  griefs  to 
him,  and  he  augments  them  by  extortion.  If,  therefore,  regard 
is  to  be  had  to  the  merit  of  the  persons  we  injure,  who  is  the 


* 


Gadbury  was  an  almanack-maker,  an  astrologer,  and  a  brother  conjurer 
of  Partridge,  who  lived  several  years  after  he  f  Jl  into  the  hands  of  Squire 
Bickerstaff's  upholders,  and  died  in  reality  about  the  beginning  of  July,  1715, 
f  A  plum  is  a  term  in  the  City  for  ICOjOOOZ. 


72  THE    TATLEll.  [No.  o7. 

more  blaineable,  lie  that  oppresses  an  unhappy  man,  or  he  that 
cheats  a  foolish  one  ?  All  mankind  are  indifferently  liable  to 
adverse  strokes  of  fortune  ;  and  he  who  adds  to  them,  when 
he  might  relieve  them,  is  certainly  a  worse  subject  than  he  who 
unburdens  a  man  whose  prosperity  is  unwieldy  to  him.  Besides 
all  which,  he  that  borrows  of  Coppersmith  does  it  out  of 
necessity  ;  he  that  plays  with  me  does  it  out  of  choice." 

I  allowed  Trump  there  are  men  as  bad  as  himself,  which  is  the 
height  of  his  pretensions  :  and  must  confess,  that  Coppersmith 
is  the  most  wicked  and  impudent  of  all  Sharpers  :  a  creature 
that  cheats  with  credit,  and  is  a  robber  in  the  habit  of  a  friend. 
The  contemplation  of  this  worthy  person  made  me  reflect  on 
the  wonderful  successes  I  have  observed  men  of  the  meanest 
capacities  meet  with  in  the  world,  and  recollect  an  observation 
I  once  heard  a  sage  man  make  ;  which  was,  *^'  That  he  had 
observed,  that  in  some  professions,  the  lower  the  understand- 
ing, the  greater  the  capacity."  *  I  remember,  he  instanced 
that  of  a  banker,  and  said,  that  "  the  fewer  appetites,  passions, 
and  ideas  a  man  had,  he  was  the  better  for  his  business." 

There  is  little  Sir  Tristram,  without  connection  in  his  speech, 
or  so  much  as  common  sense,  has  arrived  by  his  own  natural 
parts  at  one  of  the  greatest  estates  amongst  us.  But  honest 
Sir  Tristram  knows  himself  to  be  but  a  repository  for  cash  :  he 
is  just  such  an  utensil  as  his  iron  chest,  and  may  rather  be  said 
to  hold  money,  than  possess  it.  There  is  nothing  so  pleasant 
as  to  be  in  the  conversation  of  these  wealthy  proficients.  I 
had  lately  the  honour  to  drink  half  a  pint  with  Sir  Tristram, 
Harry  Coppersmith,  and  Giles  Twoshoes.  These  wags  gave 
one  another  credit  in  discourse,  according  to  their  purses  ;  they 
jest  by  the  pound,  and  make  answers  as  they  honour  bills. 
Without  vanity,  I  thought  myself  the  prettiest  fellow  of  the 
company  ;  but  I  had  no  manner  of  power  over  one  muscle  in 
their  faces,  though  tliey  smirked  at  every  word  spoken  by  each 
other.     Sir  Tristram  called  for  a  pipe  of  tobacco  ;  and  telling 

^  Swift  insinuates  the  same  tbouyht,  where  he  bids  Loixl  Bolingbroke  take 
notice,  "that  the  clerks  iu  his  lordship's  office  made  use  of  ivory  knives  to 
cut  paper  with,  in  preference  to  penknives." 


No.  58.]  HARD    WORDS.  73 

us  "  tobacco  was  a  pot-herb,"  bid  the  drawer  bring  liiin  the 
other  half-pint.  Twoshoes  lauglied  at  the  knight's  wit  without 
moderation  ;  I  took  tlie  liberty  to  say ''  it  was  but  a  pun."  "  A 
pun  !  "  said  Coppersmith  ;  "  you  would  be  a  better  man  by  ten 
thousand  pounds  if  you  could  pun  like  Sir  Tristram."  With 
that  they  all  burst  out  together.  The  queer  curs  maintained 
this  style  of  dialogue  until  we  had  drunk  our  quart  a-piece  by 
half-pints.  All  I  could  bring  away  with  me  is,  that  Twoshoes 
is  not  worth  twenty  thousand  pounds  :  for  his  mirth,  thouo-h 
he  was  as  insipid  as  either  of  the  others,  had  no  more  efiect 
upon  the  company  than  if  he  had  been  a  bankrupt. 


HAED  WORDS. 

No.  58.    TUESDAY,  August  23,  17u9.     [Steele.] 

A  MAX  would  be  apt  to  think,  in  this  laughing  town,  that  it 
were  impossible  a  thing  so  exploded  as  speaking  hard  words 
should  be  practised  by  any  one  that  had  ever  seen  good  com- 
pany ;  but,  as  if  there  were  a  standard  in  our  minds  as  well 
as  bodies,  you  see  very  many  just  where  they  were  twenty  years 
ago,  and  more  they  cannot,  will  not  arrive  at.  Were  it  not 
thus,  the  noble  Martins  would  not  be  the  only  man  in  England 
whom  nobody  can  understand,  though  he  talks  more  than  any 
man  else. 

Will  Dactyle  the  epigrammatist.  Jack  Comma  the  gram- 
marian, Xick  Crosse-grain  who  writes  anagrams,  and  myself, 
made  a  pretty  company  at  a  corner  of  this  room  ;  and  entered 
very  peaceably  upon  a  subject  fit  enough  for  us,  which  was,  the 
examination  of  the  force  of  the  particle  For,  when  Martius 
joined  us.  He,  being  well  known  to  us  all,  asked  "  what  we 
were  upon  ?  for  he  had  a  mind  to  consummate  the  happiness  of 
the  day,  which  had  been  spent  among  the  stars  of  the  first 
magnitude,  among  the  men  of  letters  ;  and  therefore,  to  put  a 
period  to  it  as  he  had  commenced  it,  he  should  be  glad  to  be 

G   2 


74  THE   TATLER.  [No.  58. 

allowed  to  participate  of  the  pleasure  of  our  society."  I  told 
him  the  subject.  '' Faith,  gentlemen/'  said  Martins,  "your 
subject  is  humble  ;  and  if  you  will  give  me  leave  to  elevate  the 
conversation,  I  should  humbly  offer,  that  yon  would  enlarge 
yonr  enquiries  to  the  word  For-as-much  ;  for  though  I  take  it," 
said  he,  "  to  be  but  one  word,  yet  the  particle  Much  implying 
quantity,  the  particle  As  similitude,  it  will  be  greater,  and  more 
like  ourselves,  to  treat  of  For-as-much."  Jack  Comma  is 
always  serious,  and  answered ;  ''  Martins,  I  must  take  the 
liberty  to  say,  that  you  have  fallen  into  all  this  error  and  pro- 
fuse manner  of  speech  by  a  certain  hurry  in  your  imagination , 
for  want  of  being  more  exact  in  the  knowledge  of  the  parts  of 
speech  ;  and  it  is  so  with  all  men  who  have  not  well  studied 
the  particle  For.  You  have  spoken  For  without  making  any 
inference,  which  is  the  great  use  of  that  particle.  There  is  no 
manner  of  force  in  your  observation  of  quantity  and  similitude 
in  the  syllables  As  and  Much.  But  it  is  ever  the  fault  of  men 
of  great  wit  to  be  incorrect ;  which  evil  they  run  into  by  an 
indiscreet  use  of  the  word  For.  Consider  all  the  books  of  con- 
troversy which  have  been  written,  and  I  will  engage  you  will 
observe,  that  all  the  debate  lies  in  this  point.  Whether  they 
brought  in  For  in  a  just  manner  ;  or  forced  it  in  for  their  own 
use,  rather  than  as  understanding  the  use  of  the  word  itself  ? 
There  is  nothing  like  familiar  instances  :  you  have  heard  the 
story  of  the  Irishman,  who  reading,  "  Money  for  live  hair," 
took  a  lodging,  and  expected  to  be  paid  for  living  at  that  house. 
If  this  man  had  known,  For  was  in  that  place  of  a  quite 
different  signification  from  the  particle  To,  he  could  not  have 
fallen  into  the  mistake  of  taking  Live  for  what  the  Latins  call 
Vivere,  or  rather  Eahitare.'" 

Martins  seemed  at  a  loss ;  and,  admiring  his  profound 
learning,  wished  he  had  been  bred  a  scholar,  for  he  did  not  take 
the  scope  of  his  discourse.  This  wise  debate,  of  which  we  had 
much  more,  made  me  reflect  upon  the  difference  of  their  capa- 
cities, and  wonder  that  there  could  be  as  it  were  a  diversity  in 
men's  genius  for  nonsense  ;  that  one  should  bluster,  while 
another   crept,  in  absurdities.     Martins  moves  like  a  blind 


No.  GO.]  TOM    WILDAIR.  76 

man,  lifting  his  legs  higher  than  the  ordinary  way  of  stepping  ; 
and  Comma,  like  one  who  is  only  short-sighted,  picking  his 
way  when  he  should  bo  marching  on.  Want  of  learning  makes 
]\Iartius  a  brisk  entertaining  fool,  and  gives  him  a  full  scope ;  but 
that  which  Comma  has,  and  calls  learning,  makes  him  diffident, 
and  curbs  his  natural  misunderstanding  to  the  great  loss  of  the 
men  of  raillery.  This  conversation  confirmed  me  in  the  opinion, 
that  learning  usually  does  but  improve  in  us  what  nature 
endowed  us  with.  He  that  w\ants  good  sense  is  unhappy  in 
having  learning,  for  he  has  thereby  only  more  ways  of  exposing 
himself;  and  he  that  has  sense  knows  that  learning  is  not 
knowledge,  but  rather  the  art  of  using  it. 


TOM  WILDAIE. 

No.  60.    SATURDAY,  August  27,  1709.     [Steele.] 

To  proceed  regularly  in  the  history  of  my  worthies,  I  ought 
to  give  an  account  of  what  has  passed  from  day  to  day  in  this 
place  ;  but  a  young  fellow  of  my  acquaintance  has  so  lately 
been  rescued  out  of  the  hands  of  the  Knights  of  the  Industry, 
that  I  rather  choose  to  relate  the  manner  of  his  escape  from 
them,  and  the  uncommon  way  which  was  used  to  reclaim  him, 
than  to  go  on  in  my  intended  diary. 

You  are  to  know  then,  that  Tom  Wildair  is  a  student  of  the 
Inner  Temple,  and  has  spent  his  time,  since  he  left  the 
university  for  that  place,  in  the  common  diversions  of  men  of 
fashion  ;  that  is  to  say,  in  whoring,  drinking,  and  gaming. 
The  two  former  vices  he  had  from  his  father  ;  but  was  led  into 
the  last  by  the  conversation  of  a  partizan  of  the  Myrmidons 
who  had  chambers  near  him.  His  allowance  from  his  father 
was  a  very  plentiful  one  for  a  man  of  sense,  but  as  scanty  for  a 
modern  fine  gentleman.  His  frequent  losses  had  reduced  him 
to  so  necessitous  a  condition,  that  his  lodgings  were  always 


76  THE    TATLEE.  [No.  GO. 

haunted  by  impatient  creditors  ;  and  all  his  thoughts  employed 
in  contriving  low  methods  to  support  himself  in  a  way  of  life 
from  which  he  knew  not  how  to  retreat,  and  in  which  he 
wanted  means  to  proceed.  There  is  never  wanting  some  good- 
natured  person  to  send  a  man  an  account  of  what  he  has  no 
mind  to  hear  ;  therefore  many  epistles  were  conveyed  to  the 
father  of  this  extravagant,  to  inform  him  of  the  company,  the 
pleasures,  the  distresses,  and  entertainments,  in  which  his  son 
passed  his  time.  The  old  fellow  received  these  advices  with 
all  the  pain  of  a  parent,  but  frequently  consulted  his  pillow,  to 
know  how  to  behave  himself  on  such  important  occasions,  as 
the  welfare  of  his  son,  and  the  safety  of  his  fortune.  After 
many  agitations  of  mind,  he  reflected,  that  necessity  was  the 
usual  snare  which  made  men  fall  into  meanness,  and  that  a 
liberal  fortune  generally  made  a  liberal  and  honest  mind  ;  he 
resolved  therefore  to  save  him  from  his  ruin,  by  giving  him 
opportunities  of  tasting  what  it  is  to  be  at  ease,  and  inclosed  to 
him  the  following  order  upon  Sir  Tristram  Cash. 

"  Sir, 
"  Pray  pay  to  Mr.  Thomas  Wildair,  or  order,  the  sum  of  one 
thousand  pounds,  and  place  it  to  the  account  of  yours, 

"  Humphry  Wildair." 

Tom  was  so  astonished  with  the  receipt  of  this  order,  that 
though  he  knew  it  to  be  his  father's  hand,  and  that  he  had 
always  large  sums  at  Sir  Tristram's  ;  yet  a  thousand  pounds 
was  a  trust  of  which  his  conduct  had  always  made  him  appear 
so  little  capable,  that  he  kept  his  note  by  him,  until  he  writ  to 
his  father  the  following  letter  : 

"  Honoured  Father, 
"  I  have  received  an  order  under  your  hand  for  a  thousand 
pounds,  in  words  at  length  ;  and  I  think  I  could  swear  it  is 
your  own  hand.  I  have  looked  it  over  and  over  twenty 
thousand  times.  There  is  in  plain  letters,  T,h,o,u,s,a,n,d  ;  and 
after  it,  the  letters  P,o,u,n,d,s.  I  have  it  still  by  me,  and  shall, 
I  believCj  continue  reading  it  until  I  hear  from  you." 


Ko.  60.]  TOM    WILDAIR.  77 

The  old  gentleman  took  no  manner  of  notice  of  the  receipt 
of  his  letter ;  but  sent  him  another  order  for  three  thousand 
pounds  more.     His  amazement  on  this  second  letter  was  un- 
speakable,    lie  immediately  double-locked  his  door,  and  sat 
down  carefully  to   reading  and   comparing   both  his  orders. 
After  he  had  read  them  until  he  was  half  mad,  he  walked  six 
or  seven  turns  in  his  chamber,  then  opens  his  door,  then  locks 
it  again ;  and,  to  examine  thoroughly  this  matter,  he  locks  his 
door  again,  puts  his  table  and  chairs  against  it ;  then  goes  into 
his  closet,  and,  locking  himself  in,  reads  his  notes  over  again  about 
nineteen  times,  which  did  but  increase  his  astonishment.     Soon 
after,  he  began  to  recollect  many  stories  he  had  formerly  heard  of 
persons,  who  had  been  possessed  with  imaginations  and  appear- 
ances which  had  no  foundation  in  nature,  but  had  been  taken 
with  sudden  madness  in  the  midst  of  a  seeming  clear  and  un- 
tainted reason.     This  made  him  very  gravely  conclude  he  was 
out  of  his  wits  ;  and,  with  a  design  to  compose  himself,  ho 
immediately  betakes  him  to  his  night-cap,  with  a  resolution  to 
sleep  himself  into  his  former  poverty  and  senses.     To  bed  there- 
fore he  goes  at  noon-day  ;  but  soon  rose  again,  and  resolved  to 
visit  Sir  Tristram  upon  this  occasion.     He  did  so,  and  dined 
with  the  knight,  expecting  he  would  mention  some  advice  from 
his  father  about  paying  him  money  ;  but  no  such  thing  being 
said,  "  Look  you.  Sir  Tristram,"  said  he,  'S'ou  are  to  know, 
that   an   affair  has   happened,   which — "    "Look  you,"   says 
Tristram,  "  I  know,  Mr.  Wildair,  you  are  going  to  desire  me 
to  advance  ;  but  the  late  call  of  the  bank,  where  I  have  not 
yet  made  my  last  payment,  has  obliged  me — "    Tom  interrupted 
him,  by  shewing  him  the  bill  of  a  thousand  pounds.     "When  ho 
had  looked  at  it  for  a  convenient  time,  and  as  often  surveyed 
Tom's  looks  and  countenance  ;    "  Look  you,  Mr.  Wildair,  a 
thousand  pounds — "  Before  he  could  proceed,  he  shews  him 
the  order  for  three  thousand  more — Sir  Tristram  examined  the 
orders  at  the  light,  and  finding  at  the  writing  the  name,  there 
was  a  certain  stroke  in  one  letter,  which  the  father  and  he  had 
agreed  should  be  to  such  directions  as  he  desired  might  be 
more   immediately  honoured,  he   forthwith  pays  the  money. 


78  THE    TATLER.  [No.  Gl. 

The  possession  of  four  thousand  pounds  gave  my  young  gentle- 
man a  new  train  of  thoughts  :  he  began  to  reflect  upon  his 
birth,  the  great  expectations  he  was  born  to,  and  the  unsuitable 
ways  he  had  long  pursued.  Instead  of  that  unthinking  creature 
he  was  before,  he  is  now  provident,  generous,  and  discreet. 
The  father  and  son  liave  an  exact  and  regular  correspondence, 
with  mutual  and  unreserved  confidence  in  each  other.  The 
son  looks  upon  his  father  as  the  best  tenant  he  could  have  in 
the  country,  and  the  father  finds  the  son  the  most  safe  banker 
he  coukl  have  in  the  city. 


FELLOWS  OF  FIEE. 

No.  Gl.    TUESDAY,  August  30,  1709.     [Steele.] 

Amoxg  many  phrases  which  have  crept  into  conversation, 
especially  of  such  company  as  frequent  this  place,  there  is  not 
one  which  misleads  me  more,  than  that  of  a  "  Fellow  of  a  great 
deal  of  Fire."  This  metaphorical  term.  Fire,  has  done  much 
good  in  keeping  coxcombs  in  awe  of  one  another  ;  but  at  the 
same  time  it  has  made  them  troublesome  to  every  body  else 
You  see,  in  the  very  air  of  a  *'  Fellow  of  Fire,"  something  so 
expressive  of  what  he  would  be  at,  that  if  it  were  not  for  self- 
preservation,  a  man  would  laugh  out. 

I  had  last  night  the  fate  to  drink  a  bottle  with  two  of  these 
Firemen,  who  were  indeed  dispersed  like  the  Myrmidons  in  all 
quarters,  and  to  be  met  with  among  those  of  the  most  different 
education.  One  of  my  companions  was  a  scholar  with  Fire  ; 
and  the  other  a  soldier  of  the  same  complexion.  My  learned 
man  would  fall  into  disputes,  and  argue  without  any  manner 
of  provocation  or  contradiction  :  the  other  was  decisive  without 
words,  and  would  give  a  shrug  or  an  oath  to  express  his 
opinion.  My  learned  man  was  a  mere  scholar,  and  my  man  of 
war  as  mere  a  soldier.  The  particularity  of  the  first  was 
ridiculous,  that  of  the  second,  terrible.     They  were  relations 


No.  61.]  FELLOWS    OF    FIRE.  79 

by  blood,  which  in  some  measure  moderated  their  extra- 
vagances towards  each  other  :  I  gave  myself  up  merely  as  a 
person  of  no  note  in  tlie  company,  but  as  if  brought  to  be  con- 
vinced that  I  was  an  inconsiderable  thing,  any  otherwise  than 
that  they  would  shew  each  other  to  me,  and  make  me  spectator 
of  the  triamph  they  alternately  enjoyed.  The  scholar  has  been 
very  conversant  with  books,  and  the  other  with  men,  only ; 
which  makes  them  both  superficial :  for  the  taste  of  books  is 
necessary  to  our  behaviour  in  the  best  company,  and  the 
knowledge  of  men  is  required  for  a  true  relish  of  books  :  but 
they  have  both  Fire,  which  makes  one  pass  for  a  man  of  sense, 
and  the  other  for  a  fine  gentleman.  I  found,  I  could  easily 
enough  pass  my  time  with  the  scholar  :  for  if  I  seemed  not  to 
do  justice  to  his  parts  and  sentiments,  he  pitied  me,  and  let 
me  alone.  But  the  warrior  could  not  let  it  rest  there  ;  I  must 
know  all  that  had  happened  within  his  shallow  observations  of 
the  nature  of  the  war  :  to  all  which  he  added  an  air  of  laziness, 
and  contempt  of  those  of  his  companions  who  were  eminent  for 
delighting  in  the  exercise  and  knowledge  of  their  duty.  Thus 
it  is,  that  all  the  young  fellows  of  much  animal  life,  and  little 
understanding,  who  repair  to  our  armies,  usurp  upon  the  con- 
versation of  reasonable  men,  under  the  notion  of  having  Fire. 

The  word  has  not  been  of  greater  use  to  shallow  lovers,  to 
supply  them  with  chat  to  their  mistresses,  than  it  has  been  to 
pretended  men  of  pleasure,  to  support  them  in  being  pert  and 
dull,  and  saying  of  every  fool  of  their  order,  "  Such  a  one 
has  Fire."  There  is  Colonel  Truncheon,  who  marches  with 
divisions  ready  on  all  occasions ;  an  hero  who  never  doubted 
in  his  life,  but  is  ever  positively  fixed  in  the  wrong,  not  out  of 
obstinate  opinion,  but  invincible  stupidity. 

It  is  very  unhappy  for  this  latitude  of  London,  that  it  is 
possible  for  such  as  can  learn  only  fashion,  habit,  and  a  set  of 
common  phrases  of  salutation,  to  pass  with  no  other  accom- 
plishments, in  this  nation  of  freedom,  for  men  of  conversation 
and  sense.  All  these  ought  to  pretend  to  is,  not  to  offend  ; 
but  they  carry  it  so  far,  as  to  be  negligent  whether  they  offend 
or  not  ;  ''  for  they  have  Fire."     But  their  force  differs  from 


80  THE  TATLER.  [No.  61. 

true  spirit,  as  much  as  a  vicious  from  a  mettlesome  horse.  A 
man  of  Fire  is  a  general  enemy  to  all  the  waiters  where  you 
drink  ;  is  the  only  man  affronted  at  the  company's  being 
neglected  ;  and  makes  the  drawers  abroad,  his  valet  de  chamlre 
and  footman  at  home,  know  he  is  not  to  be  provoked  without 
danger. 

This  is  not  the  Fire  that  animates  the  noble  Marinus,  a 
youth  of  good  nature,  affability,  and  moderation.  He  com- 
mands his  ship  as  an  intelligence  moves  its  orb  :  he  is  the 
vital  life,  and  his  officers  the  limbs  of  the  machine.  His 
vivacity  is  seen  in  doing  all  the  offices  of  life  with  readiness 
of  spirit,  and  propriety  in  the  manner  of  doing  them.  To  be 
ever  active  in  laudable  pursuits,  is  the  distinguishing  character 
of  a  man  of  merit  :  wliile  the  common  behaviour  of  every  gay 
coxcomb  of  Fire  is,  to  be  confidently  in  the  wrong,  and  dare  to 
persist  in  it. 


CHAEMS  OF  WOMAN. 

No.  01.    August  3n,  17()9.     [Steele.] 

There  has  been  lately  sent  me  a  much  harder  question  than 
was  ever-  yet  put  to  me,  since  I  professed  astrology  ;  to  wit, 
how  far,  and  to  what  age,  women  ought  to  make  their  beauty 
their  chief  concern  ?  The  regard  and  care  of  their  faces  and 
persons  are  as  variously  to  be  considered,  as  their  complexions 
themselves  differ  ;  but  if  one  may  transgress  against  the  care- 
ful practice  of  tlie  fair  sex  so  much  as  to  give  an  opinion 
against  it,  I  humljly  presume,  that  less  care,  better  applied, 
would  increase  their  empire,  and  make  it  last  as  long  as  life. 
Whereas  now,  from  their  own  example,  we  take  our  esteem  of 
their  merit  from  it ;  for  it  is  very  just  that  she  who  values 
herself  only  on  her  beauty,  should  be  regarded  by  others  on  no 
other  consideration. 

There  is  certainly  a  liberal  and  a  pedantic  education  among 


No.  Gl.]  CHARMS    OF    WOMAN.  81 

women,  as  well  as  men  ;  and  the  merit  lasts  accordingly.  She, 
therefore,  that  is  bred  with  freedom,  and  in  good  company, 
considers  men  according  to  tlieir  respective  characters  and 
distinctions  ;  while  she,  that  is  locked  np  from  snch  observa- 
tions, will  consider  her  father's  bntler,  not  as  a  butler,  but  as  a 
man.  In  like  manner,  when  men  converse  \vith  women,  tlie 
well-bred  and  intelligent  are  looked  upon  with  an  observation 
suitable  to  their  different  talents  and  accomplishments,  without 
respect  to  their  sex  :  while  a  mere  woman  can  be  observed 
under  no  consideration  bnt  that  of  a  woman  ;  and  there  can  be 
but  one  reason  for  placing  any  value  npon  her,  or  losing  time 
in  her  company.  Wherefore,  I  am  of  opinion,  that  the  rule  for 
pleasing  long  is,  to  obtain  such  cjnalifications  as  would  make 
them  so,  were  they  not  women. 

Let  the  beauteous  Cleomira  then  shew  us  her  real  face,  and 
know  that  every  stage  of  life  has  its  peculiar  charms,  and  that 
there  is  no  necessity  for  fifty  to  be  fifteen.  That  childish 
colouring  of  her  cheeks  is  now  as  ungraceful,  as  that  shape 
would  have  been  when  her  face  wore  its  real  countenance. 
She  has  sense,  and  ought  to  know,  that  if  she  will  not  follow 
nature,  nature  will  follow  her.  Time  then  has  made  that 
person  which  had,  when  I  visited  her  grandfather,  an  agreeable 
bloom,  sprightly  air,  and  soft  utterance,  now  no  less  graceful 
in  a  lovely  aspect,  an  awful  manner,  and  maternal  wisdom. 
But  her  heart  was  so  set  upon  her  first  character,  that  she 
neglects  and  repines  at  her  present  ;  not  that  she  is  against  a 
more  stayed  conduct  in  others,  for  she  recommends  gravity, 
circumspection,  and  severity  of  countenance  to  her  daughter. 
Thus,  against  all  chronology,  the  girl  is  the  sage,  the  mother 
the  fine  lady. 

But  these  great  evils  proceed  from  an  unaccountable  wild 
method  in  the  education  of  the  l^etter  half  of  the  world,  the 
women.  "We  have  no  such  thing  as  a  standard  for  good 
breeding.  I  was  the  other  day  at  my  lady  AYealthy's,  and 
asked  one  of  her  daughters  how  she  did  ?  She  answered, 
"  She  never  conversed  with  men."  The  same  day  I  visited  at 
Lady  Plantwell's,  and  asked  her  daughter  the  same  question. 


82  THE    TATLER.  [No.  61. 

She  answers,  "  What  is  that  to  you,  you  old  thief  ? "  and  gives 
me  a  slap  on  the  shoulders. 

I  defy  any  man  in  England,  except  he  knows  the  family 
before  he  enters,  to  be  able  to  judge  whether  he  shall  be  agree- 
able or  not,  when  he  comes  into  it.  You  find  either  some  odd 
old  woman,  who  is  permitted  to  rule  as  long  as  she  lives,  in 
hopes  of  her  death,  and  to  interrupt  all  things  ;  or  some 
impertinent  young  woman,  who  will  talk  sillily  upon  the 
strength  of  looking  beautifully.  I  will  not  answer  for  it,  but 
it  may  be,  that  I  (like  all  other  old  fellows)  have  a  fondness 
for  the  fashions  and  manners  which  prevailed  when  I  was 
young  and  in  fashion  myself.  But  certain  it  is,  that  the  taste 
of  grace  and  beauty  is  very  much  lowered.  The  fine  women 
they  show  me  now-a-days  are  at  best  but  pretty  girls  to  me 
who  have  seen  Sacharissa,"--  when  all  the  world  repeated  the 
poems  she  inspired  ;  and  Villaria,j-  when  a  youthful  king  was 
her  subject.  The  Things  you  follow,  and  make  songs  on  now, 
should  be  sent  to  knit  or  sit  down  to  bobbins  or  bone-lace  : 
they  are  indeed  neat,  and  so  are  their  sempstresses  ;  they  are 
pretty,  and  so  are  their  hand-maids.  But  that  graceful 
motion,  that  awful  mien,  and  that  winning  attraction,  which 
grew  upon  them  from  the  thoughts  and  conversations  they 
met  with  in  my  time,  are  now  no  more  seen.  They  tell  me  I 
am  old  :  I  am  glad  I  am  so  :  for  I  do  not  like  your  present 
young  ladies. 

Those  among  us  who  set  up  for  any  thing  of  decorum,  do  so 
mistake  the  matter,  that  they  offend  on  the  other  side.  Five 
young  ladies,  who  are  of  no  small  fame  for  their  great  severity 
of  manners,  and  exemplary  behaviour,  would  lately  go  no 
where  with  their  lovers  but  to  an  oi-gan-loft  in  a  church  ; 
where  they  had  a  cold  treat,  and  some  few  opera  songs,  to  their 
great  refreshment  and  edification.  Whether  these  prudent 
persons  had  not  been  as  much  so  if  this  had  been  done  at  a 

*  Lady  Dorothy  Sidney,  dauglitor  of  Lord  Leicester,  and  afterwards  wife 
of  the  Earl  of  Sunderland,  was  celebrated  by  "Waller  under  the  feigned  name 
of  Sacharissa. 

+  The  Duchess  of  Cleveland. 


No.  G2.]  A    TACK    OF    SWINDLERS.  83 

tavern,  is  not  very  hard  to  determine.  It  is  such  silly  starts 
and  incoherences  as  these,  which  undervalue  the  beauteous  sex, 
and  puzzle  us  in  our  choice  of  sweetness  of  temper  and  sim- 
plicity of  manners,  which  are  the  only  lasting  charms  of 
woman. 


A  PACK   OF  SWINDLEES. 

No.  (:>2.     THURSDAY,  September  1,  1709.    [Steele.] 

This  place  being  frequented  by  persons  of  condition,  I  am 
desired  to  recommend  a  dog-kennel  to  any  who  shall  want  a 
pack.*  It  lies  not  far  from  Suffolk  Street,!  and  is  kept  by 
two  who  were  formerly  dragoons  in  the  French  service  ;  but 
left  plundering  for  the  more  orderly  life  of  keeping  dogs  : 
besides  that,  according  to  their  expectation,  they  find  it  more 
profitable,  as  well  as  more  conducing  to  the  safety  of  their  skin 
to  follow  this  trade,  than  the  beat  of  drum.  Their  residence 
is  very  convenient  for  the  dogs  to  whelp  in,  and  bring  up  a 
risht  breed  to  follow  the  scent.  The  most  eminent  of  the 
kennel  are  bloodhounds,  whicli  lead  the  van,  and  are  as 
follow  : 

A  LIST  OF  THE   DOGS. 

Jowler,  of  a  right  Irish  breed,  called  Captain. 

Rockwood,  of  French  race,  with  long  hair,  by  the  courtesy  of 
England,  called  also  Captain. 

Pompey,  a  tall  hound,  kennelled  in  a  convent  in  France,  and 
knows  a  rich  soil. 

These  two  last  hunt  in  couple,  and  are  followed  by 

Ringwood,  a  French  black  whelp  of  the  same  breed,  a  fine 

*  Of  the  "dogs"  that  underwent  the  severe  chastisement  of  this  paper, 
many  were  hanged  soon  after  the  date  of  it  ;  and  several  saved  the  hangman 
the  exercise  of  his  office. 

t  Suffolk  Street,  Pall  Mall,  was  at  this  time  much  frequented  by  papists 
and  foreigners. 


84  THE   TATLEPx.  [Ko.  62. 

open-moutlied  dog  ;  and  an  old  sick  hound,  alv>ays  in  kennel, 
but  of  the  true  blood,  with  a  good  nose,  French  breed. 

There  is  also  an  Italian  greyhound,  with  good  legs,  and 
knows  perfectly  the  ground  from  Ghent  to  Paris. 

Ten  setting  dogs,  right  English. 

Four  mongrels  of  the  same  nation. 

And  twenty  whelps,  fit  for  any  game. 

These  curs  are  so  extremely  hungry,  that  they  are  too  keen 
at  the  sport,  and  worry  their  game  before  the  keepers  can  come 
in.  The  other  day  a  wild  boar  from  the  north  rushed  into  the 
kennel,  and  at  first,  indeed,  defended  himself  against  the  whole 
pack  ;  but  they  proved  at  last  too  many  for  him,  and  tore 
twenty-five  pounds  of  flesh  from  off  his  back,  with  which  they 
filled  their  bellies,  and  made  so  great  a  noise  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, that  the  keepers  are  obliged  to  hasten  the  sale.  That 
quarter  of  the  town  where  they  are  kennelled  is  generally 
inhabited  by  strangers,  whose  blood  the  hounds  have  often 
sucked  in  such  a  manner,  that  many  a  German  count,  and 
other  virtuosi,  Avho  came  from  the  continent,  haA^e  lost  the 
intention  of  their  travels,  and  been  unable  to  proceed  on  their 
journey. 

If  these  hounds  are  not  very  soon  disposed  of  to  some  good 
purchaser,  as  also  those  at  the  kennels  nearer  Saint  James's,  it 
is  humbly  proposed,  that  they  may  be  altogether  transported 
to  America,  where  the  dogs  are  few,  and  the  wild  beasts  many  : 
or  that,  during  their  stay  in  these  parts,  some  eminent  justice 
of  the  peace  may  have  it  in  particular  direction  to  visit  their 
harbours  ;  and  that  the  sheriff  of  jMiddlesex  may  allow  him 
the  assistance  of  the  common  hangman  to  cut  off  their  ears,  or 
part  of  them,  for  distinction  sake,  that  we  may  know  the  blood- 
hounds from  the  mongrels  and  setters.  Until  these  things  are 
regulated,  you  may  enquire  at  an  house  belonging  to  Paris,  at 
the  upper-end  of  Suffolk  Street,  or  an  house  belonging  to 
Ghent,  opposite  to  the  lower  end  of  Pall  Mall,  and  know 
farther. 

It  were  to  be  wished  that  these  curs  were  disposed  of ;  for 


No.  65.]  STIARPEUS    AT    BATH.  85 

ifc  is  a  very  great  nuisance  to  have  them  tolerated  in  cities. 
That  of  London  takes  care,  that  the  **  Common  Hunt," 
assisted  by  the  Serjeants  and  bailiffs,  expel  them  whenever  they 
are  found  within  the  walls  ;  though  it  is  said,  some  private 
families  keep  them,  to  the  destruction  of  their  neighbours  : 
but  it  is  desired,  that  all  who  know  of  any  of  these  curs,  or 
have  been  bit  by  them,  would  send  me  their  marks,  and  the 
houses  where  they  are  harboured  ;  and  I  do  not  doubt  but  I 
shall  alarm  the  people  so  well,  as  to  liavc  them  used  like  nuid 
dogs  wherever  they  appear.  In  the  meantime,  I  advise  all 
such  as  entertain  this  kind  of  vermin,  that  if  they  give  me 
timely  notice  that  their  dogs  are  dismissed,  I  shall  let  them  go 
unregarded  ;  otherwise  am  obliged  to  admonish  my  fellow- 
subjects  in  this  behalf,  and  instruct  them  how  to  avoid  being 
worried,  when  they  are  going  about  their  lawful  professions 
and  callings.  There  was  lately  a  young  gentleman  bit  to  the 
bone  ;  who  has  now  indeed  recovered  his  health,  but  is  as  lean 
as  a  skeleton.  It  grieved  my  heart  to  see  a  gentleman's  son 
run  among  the  hounds  ;  but  he  is,  they  tell  me,  as  fleet  and  as 
dangerous  as  the  best  of  the  pack. 


SHARPERS  AT  BATH. 

No.  65.    THURSDAY,  September  8,  1709.     [Steele.] 

The  following  letters  are  sent  to  me  from  relations  ;  and 
though  I  do  not  know  who  and  who  are  intended,  I  publish 
them.  I  have  only  writ  nonsense,  if  there  is  nothing  in  them  ; 
and  done  a  good  action,  if  they  alarm  any  heedless  men  against 
the  fraternity  of  the  Knights,  whom  the  Greeks  call  Vao-KaXs. 

Eath,   Alirj.  30. 
"  Mr.  BiCKERSTAFF, 

"  It  is  taken  very  ill  by  several  gentlemen  here,  that 
you  are  so  little  vigilant,  as  to  let  the  dogs  run  from  their  ken- 


86  THE    TATLER.  [No.  65. 

iiels  to  this  place.  Had  yoii  done  your  duty,  we  should  have 
had  notice  of  their  arrival ;  but  the  sharpers  are  now  become 
so  formidable  here,  that  they  have  divided  themselves  into 
nobles  and  commons  ;  beau  Bogg,  beau  Pert,  Rake,  and  Tall- 
boy, are  of  their  upper  house ;  broken  captains,  ignorant 
attornies,  and  such  other  bankrupts  from  industrious  pro- 
fessions, compose  their  lower  order.  Among  these  two  sets  of 
men,  there  happened  here  lately  some  unhappy  differences. 
Esquire  Humphry  came  down  among  us  with  four  hundred 
guineas  :  his  raw  appearance,  and  certain  signals  in  the  good- 
natured  muscles  of  Humphry's  countenance,  alarmed  the 
societies  ;  for  sharpers  are  as  skilful  as  beggars  in  physiognomy, 
and  know  as  well  where  to  hope  for  plunder,  as  the  others  to 
ask  for  alms.  Pert  was  the  man  exactly  fitted  for  taking  with 
Humphry,  as  a  fine  gentleman  ;  for  a  raw  fool  is  ever  en- 
amoured with  his  contrary,  a  coxcomb  ;  and  a  coxcomb  is  what 
the  booby,  who  wants  experience,  and  is  unused  to  company, 
regards  as  the  first  of  men.  He  ever  looks  at  him  with  envy, 
and  would  certainly  be  such,  if  he  were  not  oppressed  by  his 
rusticity  or  bashfulness.  There  arose  an  entire  friendship  by 
this  sympathy  between  Pert  and  Humphry,  which  ended  in 
stripping  the  latter.  ^Yc  now  could  see  this  forlorn  youth  for 
some  days  moneyless,  without  sword,  and  one  day  without  his 
hat,  and  with  secret  melancholy  pining  for  his  snuflp-box  ;  the 
jest  of  the  whole  town,  but  most  of  those  who  robbed  him. 

"At  last  fresh  bills  came  down,  when  immediately  their 
countenances  cleared  up,  antient  kindnesses  and  familiarity 
renewed,  and  to  dinner  he  Avas  invited  by  the  fraternity.  You 
are  to  know,  that  while  he  was  in  his  days  of  solitude,  a  com- 
moner, who  was  excluded  from  his  share  of  the  prey,  had 
whispered  the  esquire,  that  he  was  bit,  and  cautioned  him  of 
venturing  again.  However,  hopes  of  recovering  his  snufip-box, 
which  was  given  him  by  his  aunt,  made  him  fall  to  play  after 
dinner ;  yet,  mindful  of  what  he  was  told,  he  saw  something 
that  provoked  him  to  tell  them,  they  were  a  company  of 
sharpers.  Presently  Tallboy  fell  on  him,  and,  being  too  hard 
at  fisty-cufPs,  drove  him  out  of  doors.     The  valiant  Pert  fol- 


No.  65.]  SHARPERS    AT    BATH.  87 

lowed,  and  kicked  him  in  bis  turn  ;  which  the  esquire  resented, 
as  being  nearer  his  match  ;  so  challenged  him  :  but  differing 
about  time  and  place,  friends  interposed,  for  he  had  still  money- 
left,  and  persuaded  him  to  ask  pardon  for  provoking  them  to 
beat  him,  and  they  asked  his  for  doing  it.  The  house,  con- 
sulting whence  Humphry  could  have  his  information,  concluded 
it  mubt  be  from  some  malicious  commoner  ;  and,  to  be  re- 
venged, beau  Bogg  watched  their  haunts,  and  in  a  shop  where 
some  of  them  were  at  play  with  ladies,  shewed  dice  which  he 
found,  or  pretended  to  find,  upon  them  ;  and,  declaring  how 
false  they  were,  warned  the  company  to  take  care  who  they 
played  with.  By  his  seeming  candour,  he  cleared  his  reputa- 
tion at  least  to  fools  and  some  silly  women  ;  but  it  was  still 
blasted  by  the  esquire's  story  with  thinking  men  :  however,  he 
gained  a  great  point  by  it ;  for  the  next  day  he  got  the  com- 
pany shut  up  with  himself  and  fellow-members,  and  robbed 
them  at  discretion. 

"  I  cannot  express  to  you  with  what  indignation  I  behold  the 
noble  spirit  of  gentlemen  degenerated  to  that  of  private  cut- 
purses.  It  is  in  vain  to  hope  a  remedy,  while  so  many  of  the 
fraternity  get  and  enjoy  estates  of  twenty,  thirty,  and  fifty- 
thousand  pounds,  with  impunity,  creep  into  the  best  conversa- 
tions, and  spread  the  infectious  villainy  through  the  nation, 
while  the  lesser  rogues,  that  rob  for  hunger  or  nakedness,  are 
sacrificed  by  the  blind,  and,  in  this  respect,  partial  and  defec- 
tive law.  Could  you  open  men's  eyes  against  the  occasion  of 
all  this,  the  great  corrupter  of  our  manners  and  morality,  the 
author  of  more  bankrupts  than  the  war,  and  sure  bane  of  all 
industry,  frugality,  and  good  nature  ;  in  a  word,  of  all  virtues  ; 
I  mean,  public  or  private  play  at  cards  or  dice  ;  how  willingly 
would  I  contribute  my  utmost,  and  possibly  send  you  some 
memoirs  of  the  lives  and  politics  of  some  of  the  fraternity  of 
great  figure,  that  might  be  of  use  to  you  in  setting  this  in  a 
clear  light  against  next  session  ;  that  all  who  care  for  their 
country  or  posterity,  and  see  the  pernicious  eff'ects  of  such  a 
public  vice,  may  endeavour  its  destruction  by  some  effectual 
laws.     In  concurrence  to  this  good  design,  I  remain 

"Your  humble  servant,  &c." 

H 


88  THE    TATLER.  [Xo.  66. 

Friday,  Sept.  2. 

''Mr.  Bickerstaff, 

"  I  HEARTILY  join  with  you  in  your  laudable  design 
against  the  Myrmidons,  as  well  as  your  late  insinuations 
against  Coxcombs  of  Fire  ;  and  I  take  this  opportunity  to 
congratulate  you  on  the  success  of  your  labours  which  I  ob- 
served yesterday  in  one  of  the  hottest  firemen  in  town  ;  who 
not  only  affects  a  soft  smile,  but  was  seen  to  be  thrice  contra- 
dicted without  shewing  any  sign  of  impatience.  These,  I  say, 
so  happy  beginnings  promise  fair,  and  on  this  account  I  rejoice 
you  have  undertaken  to  unkennel  the  curs  ;  a  work  of  such  use, 
that  I  admire  it  so  long  escaped  your  vigilance  ;  and  exhort 
you,  by  the  concern  you  have  for  the  good  people  of  England, 
to  pursue  your  design  :  and,  that  these  vermin  may  not  flatter 
themselves  that  they  pass  undiscovered,  I  desire  you  would 
acquaint  Jack  Haughty,  that  the  whole  secret  of  his  bubbling 
his  friend  with  the  Swiss  at  the  Thatched  House  is  well  known, 
as  also  his  sweetening  the  knight ;  and  I  shall  acknowledge 
the  favour. 

"  Your  most  humble  servant,  &c." 


THE  CLERGY  AND  THEIR  DELIVERY. 

No.  66.     SATURDAY,  September  10,  1709. 
[Swift  and  Steele.] 

The  subject  of  the  discourse  this  evening  was  eloquence  and 
graceful  action.  Lysander,  who  is  something  particular  in  his 
way  of  thinking  and  speaking,  told  us,  "  a  man  could  not  be 
eloquent  without  action  :  for  the  deportment  of  the  body,  the 
turn  of  the  eye,  and  an  apt  sound  to  every  word  that  is  uttered, 
must  all  conspire  to  make  an  accomplished  speaker.  Action 
in  one  that  speaks  in  public,  is  the  same  thing  as  a  good  mien 
in  ordinary  life.     Thus,  as  a  certain  insensibility  in  the  coun- 


Xo.  66.]        THE    CLERGY    AND    THEIR    DELIVERY.  89 

tenance  recommends  a  sentence  of  humour  and  jest,  so  it  must 
be  a  very  lively  consciousness  that  gives  grace  to  great  senti- 
ments. The  jest  is  to  be  a  thing  unexpected  ;  therefore  your 
undesigning  manner  is  a  beauty  in  expressions  of  mirth  ;  but 
when  you  are  to  talk  on  a  set  subject,  the  more  you  are  moved 
yourself,  the  more  you  will  move  others. 

"  There  is,"  said  he,  *'  a  remarkable  example  of  that  kind, 
^schines,  a  famous  orator  of  antiquity,  had  pleaded  at  Athens 
in  a  great  cause  against  Demosthenes  ;  but  having  lost  it,  re- 
tired to  Rhodes."  Eloquence  was  then  the  quality  most 
admired  among  men  ;  and  the  magistrates  of  that  place,  hav- 
ing heard  he  had  a  copy  of  the  speech  of  Demosthenes,  desired 
him  to  repeat  both  their  pleadings.  After  his  own,  he  recited 
also  the  oration  of  his  antagonist.  The  people  expressed  their 
admiration  of  both,  but  more  of  that  of  Demosthenes.  "If 
you  are,"  said  he,  "  thus  touched  with  hearing  only  what  that 
great  orator  said,  how  would  you  have  been  affected  had  you 
seen  him  speak  ?  For  he  who  hears  Demosthenes  only,  loses 
much  the  better  part  of  the  oration."  Certain  it  is  that  they 
who  speak  gracefully  are  very  lamely  represented  in  having 
their  speeches  read  or  repeated  by  unskilful  people  ;  for  there 
is  something  native  to  each  man,  so  inherent  to  his  thoughts 
and  sentiments,  which  it  is  hardly  possible  for  another  to  give 
a  true  idea  of.  You  may  observe  in  common  talk,  when  a 
sentence  of  any  man's  is  repeated,  an  acquaintance  of  his  shall 
immediately  observe,  "  that  is  so  like  him,  methinks  I  see  how 
he  looked  when  he  said  it." 

But  of  all  the  people  on  the  earth,  there  are  none  who  puzzle 
me  so  much  as  the  Clergy  of  Great  Britain,  who  are,  I  believe, 
the  most  learned  body  of  men  now  in  the  world  ;  and  yet  this 
art  of  speaking,  with  the  proper  ornaments  of  voice  and  gesture, 
is  wholly  neglected  among  them  ;  and  I  will  engage,  were  a 
deaf  man  to  behold  the  greater  part  of  them  preach,  he  would 
rather  think  they  were  reading  the  contents  only  of  some  dis- 
course they  intended  to  make,  than  actually  in  the  body  of  an 
oration,  even  when  they  are  upon  matters  of  such  a  nature,  as  one 
would  believe  it  were  impossible  to  think  of  without  emotion. 

H  2 


90  THE    TATLER.  [No.  66. 

I  own  there  are  exceptions  to  this  general  observation,  and 
that  the  Dean  we  heard  the  other  day  together  is  an  orator.* 
He  has  so  much  regard  to  his  congregation,  that  he  commits 
to  his  memory  what  he  has  to  say  to  them  ;  and  has  so  soft 
and  graceful  a  behaviour,  that  it  must  attract  your  attention. 
His  person,  it  is  to  be  confessed,  is  no  small  recommendation  ; 
but  he  is  to  be  highly  commended  for  not  losing  that  advan- 
tage, and  adding  to  the  propriety  of  speech,  which  might  pass 
the  criticism  of  Longinus,  an  action  which  would  have  been 
approved  by  Demosthenes.  He  has  a  peculiar  force  in  his  way, 
and  has  many  of  his  audience  f  who  could  not  be  intelligent 
hearers  of  his  discourse,  were  there  not  explanation  as  well  as 
grace  in  his  action.  This  art  of  his  is  used  with  the  most 
exact  and  honest  skill :  he  never  attempts  your  passions  until 
he  has  convinced  your  reason.  All  the  objections  which  he 
can  form  are  laid  open  and  dispersed  before  he  uses  the  least 
vehemence  in  his  sermon  ;  but  when  he  thinks  he  has  your 
head,  he  very  soon  wins  your  heart ;  and  never  pretends  to 
shew  the  beauty  of  holiness,  until  he  hath  convinced  you  of  the 
truth  of  it. 

Would  every  one  of  our  clergymen  be  thus  careful  to  re- 
commend truth  and  virtue  in  their  proper  figures,  and  shew  so 
much  concern  for  them  as  to  give  them  all  the  additional 
force  they  were  able,  it  is  not  possible  that  nonsense  should 
have  so  many  hearers  as  you  find  it  has  in  dissenting  congre- 
gations,:!: for  no  reason  in  the  world,  but  because  it  is  spoken 
extem])ore :  for  ordinary  minds  are  wholly  governed  by  their 
eyes  and  ears,  and  there  is  no  way  to  come  at  their  hearts,  but 
by  power  over  their  imaginations. 

There  is  my  friend  and  merry  companion  Daniel. §     He 

*  Dr.  Atterbury. 

f  At  the  Chapel  of  Bridewell  Hospital,  where  the  Dean  was  twenty  years 
minister  and  preacher. 

Ij:  It  was  the  infelicity  of  the  laity  about  the  time  here  spoken  of,  that  by 
going  to  church  they  had  no  security  from  hearing  nonsense  and  ribaldry  both 
read  and  spoken  extempore. 

§  Dr.  Daniel  Burgess,  Avho  preached  to  a  congregation  of  Independents  at 
the  meeting-house  in  a  court  adjoining  Carey  Street,  near  Lincoln's  Inn. 


JS"o.  66.]       THE    CLERGY    AXD    THEIR    DELIVERY.  91 

knows  a  great  deal  better  than  he  speaks,  and  can  form  a 
proper  discourse  as  well  as  any  orthodox  neighbour.  But  he 
knows  very  well,  that  to  bawl  out  "My  beloved!"  and  the 
words  "  grace  !  "  •' regeneration  ! "  "  s.anctification  ! "  "a  new 
light  ! ''  "  the  day  I  tlie  day  !  ay,  my  beloved,  the  day  !  or 
rather  the  night  !  the  night  is  coming  I  "  and  ''judgment  will 
come,  when  we  least  think  of  it !  "  and  so  forth — He  knows  to 
be  vehement  is  the  only  way  to  come  at  his  audience.  Daniel, 
when  he  sees  my  friend  Greenhat  come  in,  can  give  a  good 
hint,  and  cry  out,  "  This  is  only  for  the  saints  !  the  regene- 
lated  ! "  By  this  force  of  action,  though  mixed  with  all  the 
incoherence  and  ribaldry  imaginable,  Daniel  can  laugh  at  his 
diocesan,  and  grow  fat  by  voluntary  subscription,  while  the 
parson  of  the  parish  goes  to  law  for  half  his  dues.  Daniel  will 
tell  you,  ''  it  is  not  the  shepherd,  but  the  sheep  with  the  bell, 
which  the  flock  follows." 

Another  thing  very  wonderful  this  learned  body  should  omit 
is,  learning  to  read ;  which  is  a  most  necessary  part  of  elo- 
quence in  one  who  is  to  serve  at  the  altar  :  for  there  is  no  man 
but  must  be  sensible,  that  the  lazy  tone,  and  inarticulate 
sound  of  our  common  readers,  depreciates  the  most  proper 
form  of  words  that  were  ever  extant,  in  any  nation  or  language, 
to  speak  our  own  wants,  or  his  power  from  whom  we  ask 
relief. 

There  cannot  be  a  greater  instance  of  the  power  of  action, 
than  in  little  parson  Dapper,  who  is  the  common  relief  to  all 
the  lazy  pulpits  in  town.  This  smart  youth  has  a  very  good 
memory,  a  quick  eye,  and  a  clean  handkerchief.  Thus  equipped, 
he  opens  his  text,  shuts  his  book  fairly,  shews  he  has  no  notes 
in  his  Bible,  opens  both  palms,  and  shews  all  is  fair  there  too. 
Thus,  with  a  decisive  air,  my  young  man  goes  on  without 
hesitation  ;  and  though  fi'om  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  his 
pretty  discourse  he  has  not  used  one  proper  gesture,  yet  at  the 
conclusion  the  churchwarden  pulls  his  gloves  from  off  his 
hands  :  "  Pray,  who  is  this  extraordinary  young  man  ?  "  Thus 
the  force  of  action  is  such,  that  it  is  more  prevalent,  even  when 
improper,  than  all  the  reason  and  argument  in  the  world  with- 


92  THE    TATLER.  [No.  67. 

out  it.  This  gentleman  concluded  his  discourse  by  saying,  "  I 
do  not  doubt  but  if  our  preachers  would  learn  to  speak,  and 
our  readers  to  read,  within  six  months'  time  we  should  not 
have  a  dissenter  within  a  mile  of  a  church  in  Great  Britain." 


A  CHAMBER  OF  FAME. 

No.  67.     TUESDAY,  September  13,  1709. 
[Swift  and  Steele.] 

No  man  can  conceive,  until  he  comes  to  try  it,  how  great  a 
pain  it  is  to  be  a  public-spirited  person.  I  am  sure  T  am 
unable  to  express  to  the  world  what  great  anxiety  I  have 
suflPered,  to  see  of  how  little  benefit  my  lucubrations  have  been 
to  my  fellow- subjects.  Men  will  go  on  in  their  own  way,  in 
spite  of  all  my  labour.  I  gave  Mr.  Didapper  a  private 
reprimand  for  wearing  red-heeled  shoes,  and  at  the  same  time 
was  so  indulgent  as  to  connive  at  him  for  fourteen  days, 
because  I  would  give  him  the  wearing  of  them  out ;  but,  after 
all  this,  I  am  informed  he  appeared  yesterday  with  a  new  pair 
of  the  same  sort.  I  have  no  better  success  with  Mr  What- 
d'ye-call,  as  to  his  buttons  ;  Stentor  still  roars  ;  and  box  and 
dice  rattle  as  loud  as  they  did  before  I  writ  against  them. 
Partridge  walks  about  at  noon-day  and  ^sculapius  thinks  of 
adding  a  new  lace  to  his  livery.  However,  I  must  still  go  on 
in  laying  these  enormities  before  men's  eyes,  and  let  them 
answer  for  going  on  in  their  practice. 

My  province  is  much  larger  than  at  first  sight  men  would 
imagine,  and  I  shall  lose  no  part  of  my  jurisdiction,  which 
extends  not  only  to  futurity,  but  also  is  retrospect  to  things 
past ;  and  the  behaviour  of  persons,  who  have  long  ago  acted 
their  parts,  is  as  much  liable  to  my  examination,  as  that  of  my 
own  contemporaries. 


No.  67.]  A    CHAMBER    OF    FAME.  93 

In  order  to  put  the  whole  race  of  mankind  in  their  proper 
distinctions,  according  to  the  opinion  their  cohabitants  con- 
ceived of  them,  I  liave  with  very  much  care,  and  depth  of 
meditation,  thought  fit  to  erect  a  chamber  of  Fame,  and 
established  certain  rules,  which  are  to  be  observed  in  admitting 
members  into  this  illustrious  society. 

In  this  chamber  of  Fame  there  are  to  be  three  tables,  but  of 
different  lengths  :  the  first  is  to  contain  exactly  twelve  persons  ; 
the  second,  twenty  ;  and  the  third,  an  hundred.  This  is 
reckoned  to  be  the  full  number  of  those  who  have  any  competent 
share  of  Fame.  At  the  first  of  these  tables  are  to  be  placed  in 
their  order  the  twelve  most  famous  persons  in  the  world  ;  not 
with  regard  to  the  things  they  are  famous  for,  but  according  to 
the  degree  of  their  Fame,  whether  in  valour,  wit,  or  learning. 
Thus  if  a  scholar  be  more  famous  than  a  soldier,  he  is  to  sit 
above  him.  Neither  must  any  preference  be  given  to  virtue, 
if  the  person  be  not  equally  famous. 

When  the  first  table  is  filled,  the  next  in  renown  must 
be  seated  at  the  second,  and  so  on  in  like  manner  to  the 
number  of  twenty ;  as  also  in  the  same  order  at  the  third, 
which  is  to  hold  an  hundred.  At  these  tables,  no  regard  is  to 
be  had  to  seniority  :  for  if  Julius  Csesar  shall  be  judged  more 
famous  than  Romulus  and  Scipio,  he  must  have  the  precedence. 
No  person  who  has  not  been  dead  an  hundred  years  must  be 
offered  to  a  place  at  any  of  these  tables  :  and  because  this  is 
altogether  a  lay-society,  and  that  sacred  persons  move  upon 
greater  motives  than  that  of  fame,  no  persons  celebrated  in 
holy  writ,  or  any  ecclesiastical  men  whatsoever,  are  to  be  intro- 
duced here. 

At  the  lower  end  of  the  room  is  to  be  a  side-table  for  persons 
of  great  fame,  but  dubious  existence ;  such  as  Hercules, 
Theseus,  ^neas,  Achilles,  Hector,  and  others.  But  because  it 
is  apprehended,  that  there  may  be  great  contention  about 
precedence,  the  proposer  humbly  desires  the  opinion  of  the 
learned  towards  his  assistance  in  placing  every  person  ac- 
cording to  his  rank,  that  none  may  have  just  occasion  of 
offence. 


94  THE    TATLER.  [No.  67. 

The  merits  of  the  cause  shall  be  judged  by  plurality  of 
voices. 

For  the  more  impartial  execution  of  this  important  affair, 
it  is  desired,  that  no  man  will  offer  his  favourite  hero,  scholar, 
or  poet ;  and  that  the  learned  will  be  pleased  to  send  to  Mr. 
Bickerstaff,  at  Mr.  Morphew's**  near  Stationers'  Hall,  their 
several  lists  for  the  first  table  only,  and  in  the  order  they 
would  have  them  placed  ;  after  which  the  proposer  will  com- 
pare the  several  lists,  and  make  another  for  the  public, 
wherein  every  name  shall  be  ranked  according  to  the  voices  it 
has  had.  Under  this  chamber  is  to  be  a  dark  vault  for  the 
same  number  of  persons  of  evil  fame. 

It  is  humbly  submitted  to  consideration,  whether  the  pro- 
ject would  not  be  better  if  the  persons  of  true  fame  meet  in  a 
middle  room,  those  of  dubious  existence  in  an  upper  room,  and 
those  of  evil  fame  in  a  lower  dark  room. 

It  is  to  be  noted,  that  no  historians  are  to  be  admitted  at 
any  of  these  tables  ;  because  they  are  appointed  to  conduct 
the  several  persons  to  their  seats,  and  are  to  be  made  use  of  as 
ushers  to  the  assemblies. 

I  call  upon  the  learned  world  to  send  me  their  assistance 
towards  this  design,  it  being  a  matter  of  too  great  moment  for 
any  one  person  to  determine.  But  I  do  assure  them,  their  lists 
shall  be  examined  with  great  fidelity,  and  those  that  are 
exposed  to  the  public,  made  with  all  the  caution  imaginable. 

In  the  meantime,  while  I  wait  for  these  lists,  I  am  employed 
in  keeping  people  in  a  right  way,  to  avoid  the  contrary  to  fame 
and  applause,  to  wit,  blame  and  derision.  For  this  end,  I 
work  upon  that  useful  project  of  the  penny  jDOst,  by  the  benefit 
of  which  it  is  proposed,  that  a  charitable  society  be  established  : 
from  which  society  there  shall  go  every  day  circular  letters  to 
all  parts  within  the  bills  of  mortality,  to  tell  people  of  their 
faults  in  a  friendly  and  private  manner,  whereby  they  may 
know  what  the  world  thinks  of  them,  before  it  is  declared  to 
the  world  that  they  are  thus  faulty.     This  method  cannot  fail 

*  The  publislier  of  Steele's  lucubrations  and  of  tlie  leading  pamphlets  of 
the  day. 


Is^o.  67.]  A    CHAMBER    OF    FAME.  96 

of  universal  good  consequences  :  for  it  is  farther  added,  that 
they  who  will  not  be  reformed  by  it,  must  be  contented  to  see 
the  several  letters  printed,  which  were  not  regarded  by  them, 
that  when  they  will  not  take  private  reprehension,  they  may  be 
tried  farther  by  a  public  one.  I  am  very  sorry,  I  am  obliged 
to  print  the  following  epistles  of  that  kind  to  some  persons, 
and  the  more  because  they  are  of  the  fair  sex. 
This  went  on  Friday  last  to  a  very  fine  lady. 

"  Madam, 

"  I  am  highly  sensible,  that  there  is  nothing  of  so  tender 
a  nature  as  the  reputation  and  conduct  of  ladies  ;  and  that  when 
there  is  the  least  stain  got  into  their  fame,  it  is  hardly  ever  to 
be  washed  out.  When  I  have  said  this,  you  will  believe  I  am 
extremely  concerned  to  hear,  at  every  visit  I  make,  that  your 
manner  of  wearing  your  hair  is  a  mere  affectation  of  beauty,  as 
well  as  that  your  neglect  of  powder  has  been  a  common  evil  to 
your  sex.  It  is  to  you  an  advantage  to  show  that  abundance 
of  fine  tresses  :  but  I  beseech  you  to  consider,  that  the  force  of 
your  beauty,  and  the  imitation  of  you,  costs  Eleonora  great 
sums  of  money  to  her  tire- woman  for  false  locks,  besides  what 
is  allowed  to  her  maid  for  keeping  the  secret,  that  she  is  gray. 
I  must  take  leave  to  add  to  this  admonition,  that  you  are  not 
to  reign  above  four  months  and  odd  days  longer.  Therefore, 
I  must  desire  you  to  raise  and  fi*iz  your  hair  a  little,  for  it  is 
downright  insolence  to  be  thus  handsome  without  art ;  and 
you  will  forgive  me  for  intreating  you  to  do  now  out  of  com- 
passion what  you  must  soon  do  out  of  necessity.  I  am,  madam, 

Your  most  obedient, 

and  most  humble  servant." 

This  person  dresses  just  as  she  did  before  I  writ  ;  as  does 
also  the  lady  to  whom  I  addressed  the  following  billet  the 
same  day  : 

*'  Madam, 

"  Let  me  beg  of  you  to  take  off*  the  patches  at  the 
lower  end  of  your  left  cheek,  and  I  will  allow  two  more  under 


96  THE    TATLER.  [No.  71. 

your  left  eye,  which  will  contribute  more  to  the  symmetry  of 
your  face  ;  except  you  would  please  to  remove  the  teu  black 
atoms  on  your  ladyship's  chin,  and  wear  one  large  patch 
instead  of  them.  If  so,  you  may  properly  enough  retain  the 
three  patches  above  mentioned.     I  am,  &c." 

This,  I  thought,  had  all  the  civility  and  reason  in  the  world 
in  it  ;  but  whether  my  letters  are  intercepted,  or  whatever  it 
is,  the  lady  patches  as  she  used  to  do.  It  is  to  be  observed  by 
all  the  charitable  society,  as  an  instruction  in  their  epistles, 
that  they  tell  people  of  nothing  but  what  is  in  their  power  to 
mend.  I  shall  give  another  instance  of  this  way  of  writing  : 
two  sisters  in  Essex  Street  are  eternally  gaping  out  of  the 
window,  as  if  they  knew  not  the  value  of  time,  or  would  call  in 
companions.     Upon  which  I  writ  the  following  line  : 

*'  Dear  Creatures, 

*'  On  the  receipt  of  this,  shut  your  casements." 

But  I  went  by  yesterday,  and  found  them  still  at  the 
window.  What  can  a  man  do  in  this  case,  but  go  on,  and  wrap 
himself  up  in  his  own  integrity,  with  satisfaction  only  in  this 
melancholy  truth,  that  virtue  is  its  own  reward  ;  and  that  if  no 
one  is  the  better  for  his  admonitions,  yet  he  is  himself  the 
more  virtuous  in  that  he  gave  those  advices  ? 


THE  TATLEE'S  STKICTUKES. 

No.  71.     THURSDAY,  September  22,  1709. 
[Steele  and  Swift.] 

I  find  here  for  me  tlie  following  letter  : 

"  Esquire  Bickerstaff, 

"  Finding  your  advice  and  censure  to  have  a  good 
effect,  I  desire  your  admonition  to  our  vicar  and  schoolmaster. 


No.  71.]  THE    TATLER'S    STRICTURES.  97 

who,  iu  his  preaching  to  his  auditors,  stretches  his  jaws  so 
wide,  that,  instead  of  instructing  youth,  it  rather  frightens 
them  ;  likewise  in  reading  prayers,  he  has  such  a  careless  loll, 
that  people  are  justly  offended  at  his  irreverent  posture  ; 
besides  the  extraordinary  charge  they  are  put  to  in  sending 
their  children  to  dance,  to  bring  them  off  of  those  ill  gestures. 
Another  evil  faculty  he  has,  in  making  the  bowling-green  his 
daily  residence,  instead  of  his  church,  where  his  curate  reads 
prayers  every  day.  If  the  weather  is  fair,  his  time  is  spent  in 
visiting  ;  if  cold  or  wet,  in  bed,  or  least  at  home,  though  with- 
in a  hundred  yards  of  the  church.  These,  out  of  many  such  ir- 
regular practices,  I  write  for  his  reclamation  :  but,  two  or  three 
things  more  before  I  conclude  ;  to  wit,  that  generally  when  his 
curate  preaches  in  the  afternoon,  he  sleeps  sotting  in  the  desk, 
on  a  hassock.  With  all  this  he  is  so  extremely  proud,  that  he 
will  go  but  once  to  the  sick,  except  they  return  his  visit." 

I  was  going  on  in  reading  my  letter,  when  I  was  interrupted 
by  Mr.  Greenhat,  who  has  been  this  evening  at  the  play  of  Ham- 
let. ''  Mr.  Bickerstaff,"  said  he,  "  had  you  been  to-night  at  the 
play-house,  you  had  seen  the  force  of  action  in  perfection  :  your 
admired  Mr.  Betterton  behaved  himself  so  "well,  that,  though 
now  about  seventy,  he  acted  youth;  andby  the  prevalent  power  of 
proper  manner,  gesture,  and  voice,  appeared  through  the  whole 
drama  a  young  man  of  great  expectation,  vivacity,  and  enter- 
prise. The  soliloquy,  where  he  began  the  celebrated  sentence 
of, '  To  be,  or  not  to  be  ! '  the  expostulation,  where  he  explains 
with  his  mother  in  her  closet  ;  the  noble  ardour  after  seeing 
his  father's  ghost  ;  and  his  generous  distress  for  the  death  of 
Ophelia,  are  each  of  them  circumstances  which  dwell  strongly 
upon  the  minds  of  the  audience,  and  would  certainly  affect 
their  behaviour  on  any  parallel  occasions  in  their  own  lives. 
Pray,  Mr.  Bickerstaff,  let  us  have  virtue  thus  represented  on 
the  stage  with  its  proper  ornaments,  or  let  these  ornaments  be 
added  to  her  in  places  more  sacred.  As  for  my  part,"  said  he, 
*'  I  carried  my  cousin  Jerry,  this  little  boy,  with  me;  and  shall 
always  love  the  child  for  his  partiality  in  all  that  concerned  the 
fortune  of  Hamlet.   This  is  entering  youtli  into  the  affections  and 


98  THE    TATLER.  [No.  71. 

passions  of  manhood  beforehand,  and,  as  it  were,  antedating  the 
effects  we  hope  from  a  long  and  liberal  education." 

I  cannot,  in  the  midst  of  many  other  things  which  press, 
hide  the  comfort  that  this  letter  from  my  ingenious  kinsman 
gives  me. 

"  To  my  honoured  Kinsman,  Isaac  Bickerstaff,  Esquire. 

Oxford,  Sept.  18. 

"  Dear  Cousin, 

"  I  am  sorry,  though  not  surprised,  to  find  that  you 
have  rallied  the  men  of  dress  in  vain;  that  the  amber-headed 
cane  still  maintains  its  unstable  post ;  that  pockets  are  but  a 
few  inches  shortened;  and  a  beau  is  still  a  beau,  from  the 
crown  of  his  night-cap  to  the  heels  of  his  shoes.  For  your  com- 
fort, I  can  assure  you,  that  your  endeavours  succeed  better  in 
this  famous  seat  of  learning.  By  them,  the  manners  of  our 
young  gentlemen  are  in  a  fair  way  of  amendment,  and  their 
very  language  is  mightily  refined.  To  them  it  is  owing,  that 
not  a  servitor  will  sing  a  catch,  nor  a  senior  fellow  make  a  pum 
nor  a  determining  batchelor  drink  a  bumper  ;  and  I  believe  a 
gentleman-commoner  would  as  soon  have  the  heels  of  his  shoes 
red,  as  his  stockings.  When  a  witling  stands  at  a  coffee-house 
door,  and  sneers  at  those  who  i^ass  by,  to  the  great  improve- 
ment of  his  hopeful  audience,  he  is  no  longer  surnamed  '  a 
slicer,'  but  '  a  man  of  fire '  is  the  word.  A  beauty,  whose 
healtli  is  drunk  from  Heddington  to  Hinksey  ;  *  who  has  been 
the  theme  of  the  Muses,  her  cheeks  painted  with  roses,  and 
her  bosom  planted  with  orange-boughs ;  has  no  more  the  title 
of  '  lady,'  but  reigns  an  undisputed  '  toast.'  When  to  the 
plain  garb  of  gown  and  band  a  spark  adds  an  inconsistent  long 
wig,  we  do  not  say  now  '  he  bothes,'  but  *  there  goes  a  smart 
fellow.'  If  a  virgin  blushes,  we  no  longer  cry  '  she  blues.' 
He  that  drinks  until  he  stares  is  no  more  *  tow-row,'  but 
*  honest.'  'A  youngster  in  a  scrape,' is  a  word  out  of  date  : 
and   what   bright    man    says,  *  I    was   joabed   by  a  Dean  ? ' 

*  Villajies  in  the  neiglibourliood  of  Oxford. 


No.  75.]  JEXXY    DISTAFF.  99 

*  Bamboozling '  is  exploded  ;  *  a  shat '  is  '  a  tatler  ; '  and  if  the 
muscular  motion  of  a  man's  face  be  violent,  no  mortal  says, 
'  he  raises  a  horse/  but  '  he  is  a  merry  fellow.' 

"  I  congratulate  you,  my  dear  kinsman,  upon  these 
conquests  ;  such  as  Roman  Emperors  lamented  they  could  not 
gain  ;  and  in  which  you  rival  your  correspondent  Louis  le 
Grand,  and  his  dictating  academy. 

"Be  yours  the  glory  to  perform,  mine  to  record,  as  Mr. 
Dryden  has  said  before  me  to  his  kinsman  ;  and  while  you 
enter  triumphant  into  the  temple  of  the  Muses,  I,  as  my  office 
requires,  will,  with  my  staff  on  my  shoulder,  attend  and 
conduct  you. 

*'  I  am,  dear  cousin, 

"  Your  most  affectionate  kinsman, 

"  Bexjamin  Beadlestaff.  " 


JENNY  DISTAFF. 

No.  75.    SATURDAY,  October  1,  1709. 
[Addison  and  Steele.] 

I  am  called  off  from  public  dissertations  by  a  domestic  affair 
of  great  importance,  which  is  no  less  than  the  disposal  of  my 
sister  Jenny  for  life.  The  girl  is  a  girl  of  great  merit,  and 
pleasing  conversation  ;  but  I  being  born  of  my  father's  first 
wife,  and  she  of  his  third,  she  converses  with  me  rather  like  a 
daughter  than  a  sister.  I  have  indeed  told  her,  that  if  she 
kept  her  honour,  and  behaved  herself  in  such  a  manner  as  be- 
came the  Bickerstaffs,  I  would  get  her  an  agreeable  man  for 
her  husband  ;  which  was  a  promise  I  made  her  after  reading  a 
passage  in  Pliny's  '^Epistles."  That  polite  author  had  been 
employed  to  find  out  a  comfort  for  his  friend's  daughter,  and 
gives  the  following  character  of  the  man  he  had  pitched  upon. 
Aciliano  plurimum  vigor  is  &  industries  qnanqicam  in  maxima 


100  THE    TATLER.  [No.  75. 

verecundia :  est  ilUfacies  UheraUs,  muJto  sanguine,  midio  ruhore 
suffusa ;  est  ingenua  totius  corporis  p)ukhritudo,  &  quidam 
senatorius  decor,  quce,  ego  nequaqiiam  arhitror  negligenda :  debet 
enim  hoc  castitati  puellarum  quasi  prcemium  dart.  "  Acilianus 
(for  that  was  the  gentleman's  name)  is  a  man  of  extraordinary 
vigour  and  industry,  accompanied  with  the  greatest  modesty  : 
he  was  very  much  of  the  gentleman,  with  a  lively  colour,  and 
flush  of  health  in  his  aspect.  His  whole  person  is  finely 
turned,  and  speakes  him  a  man  of  quality  :  which  are  qualifica- 
tions that,  I  think,  ought  by  no  means  to  be  over-looked  ;  and 
should  be  bestowed  on  a  daughter  as  the  reward  of  her 
chastity.  " 

A  woman  that  will  give  herself  liberties,  need  not  put  her 
parents  to  so  much  trouble  ;  for  if  she  does  not  possess  these 
ornaments  in  a  husband,  she  can  supply  herself  elsewhere. 
But  this  is  not  the  case  of  my  sister  Jenny,  who,  I  may  say 
without  vanity,  is  as  unspotted  a  spinster  as  any  in  Great 
Britain.  I  shall  take  this  occasion  to  recommend  the  conduct 
of  our  own  family  in  this  particular. 

We  have  in  the  genealogy  of  our  house,  the  descriptions 
and  pictures  of  our  ancestors  from  the  time  of  king  Arthur  ; 
in  whose  days  there  was  one  of  my  own  name,  a  knight  of  his 
round  table,  and  known  by  the  name  of  Sir  Isaac  Bickerstaff. 
He  was  low  of  stature,  and  of  a  very  swarthy  complexion,  not 
unlike  a  Portuguese  Jew.  But  he  was  more  prudent  than  men 
of  that  height  usually  are,  and  would  often  communicate  to  his 
friends  his  design  of  lengthening  and  whitening  his  posterity. 
His  eldest  son  Ralph,  for  that  was  his  name,  was  for  this  reason 
married  to  a  lady  who  had  little  else  to  recommend  her,  but  that 
she  was  very  tall  and  very  fair.  The  issue  of  this  match,  with 
the  help  of  high  shoes,  made  a  tolerable  figure  in  the  next  age ; 
though  the  complexion  of  the  family  was  obscure  until  the 
fourth  generation  from  that  marriage.  From  which  time, 
until  the  reign  of  William  the  Conqueror,  the  females  of  our 
house  were  famous  for  their  needlework  and  fine  skins.  In  the 
male  line,  there  happened  an  unlucky  accident  in  the  reign  of 
Kichard  III.,  the  eldest  son  of  Philip,  then  chief  of  the  family, 


Xo.  75.]  JENNY    DISTAFF.  101 

being  born  with  an  hnmp-back  and  very  high  nose.  This  was 
the  more  astonishing,  because  none  of  his  forefathers  ever  had 
such  a  blemish  ;  nor  indeed  was  there  any  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  that  make,  except  the  butler,  who  was  noted  for 
round  shoulders,  and  a  Roman  nose  :  what  made  the  nose  the 
less  excusable,  was  the  remarkable  smallness  of  his  eyes. 

These  several  defects  were  mended  by  succeeding  matches  ; 
the  eyes  were  open  in  the  next  generation,  and  the  hump  fell 
in  a  century  and  an  half :  but  the  greatest  difficulty  was  how 
to  reduce  the  nose  ;  which  I  do  not  find  was  accomplished 
until  about  the  middle  of  the  reign  of  Henry  VII.  or  rather 
the  beginning  of  that  of  Henry  YIII. 

But  while  our  ancestors  were  thus  taken  up  in  cultivating 
the  eyes  and  nose,  the  face  of  the  BickerstafiFs  fell  down 
insensibly  into  the  chin  ;  which  was  not  taken  notice  of,  their 
thoughts  being  so  much  employed  upon  the  more  noble 
features,  until  it  became  almost  too  long  to  be  remedied. 

But  length  of  time,  and  successive  care  in  our  alliances, 
have  cured  this  also,  and  reduced  our  faces  into  that  tolerable 
oval,  which  we  enjoy  at  present.  I  would  not  be  tedious  in 
this  discourse,  but  cannot  but  observe,  that  our  race  suffered 
very  much  about  three  hundred  years  ago,  by  the  marriage  of 
one  of  our  heiresses  with  an  eminent  courtier,  who  gave  us 
spindleshanks,  and  cramps  in  our  bones  ;  insomuch  that  we 
did  not  recover  our  health  and  legs  until  Sir  Walter  Bicker- 
staff  married  Maud  the  milk-maid,  of  whom  the  then  Garter 
King  at  Arms,  a  facetious  person,  said  pleasantly  enough, 
"  that  she  had  spoiled  our  blood,  but  mended  our  constitu- 
tions." 

After  this  account  of  the  effect  our  prudent  choice  of 
matches  has  had  upon  our  persons  and  features,  I  cannot  but 
observe,  that  there  are  daily  instances  of  as  great  changes  made 
by  marriage  upon  men's  minds  and  humours.  One  might  wear 
any  passion  out  of  a  family  by  culture,  as  skilful  gardeners  blot 
a  colour  out  of  a  tulip  that  hurts  its  beauty.  One  might  pro- 
duce an  affable  temper  out  of  a  shrew,  by  grafting  the  mild 
upon  the  choleric  ;  or   raise  a  jack-pudding  from  a  prude,  by 


102  THE    TATLER.  [No.  75. 

inociilatirig  mirth  and  melancholy.  It  is  for  want  of  care  in 
the  disposing  of  onr  children,  with  regard  to  our  bodies  and 
minds,  that  we  go  into  an  house  and  see  such  different  com- 
plexions and  humours  in  the  same  race  and  family.  But  to 
me  it  is  as  plain  as  a  pike-stafp,  from  what  mixture  it  is,  that 
this  daughter  silently  lours,  the  other  steals  a  kind  look  at  you, 
a  third  is  exactly  well-behaved,  a  fourth  a  splenetic,  and  a 
fifth  a  coquette. 

In  this  disposal  of  my  sister,  I  have  chosen  with  an  eye  to 
her  being  a  wit,  and  provided  that  the  bridegroom  be  a  man 
of  a  sound  and  excellent  judgment,  who  will  seldom  mind 
what  she  says  when  she  begins  to  harangue  :  for  Jenny's  only 
imperfection  is  an  admiration  of  her  parts,  which  inclines  her 
to  be  a  little,  but  a  very  little,  sluttish  ;  and  you  are  ever  to 
remark,  that  we  are  apt  to  cultivate  most,  and  bring  into 
observation,  what  we  think  most  excellent  in  ourselves,  or 
most  capable  of  improvement.  Thus,  my  sister,  instead  of 
consulting  her  glass  and  her  toilet  for  an  hour  and  a  half  after 
her  private  devotions,  sits  with  her  nose  full  of  snuff,  and  a 
man's  night-cap  on  her  head,  reading  plays  and  romances. 
Her  wit  she  thinks  her  distinction  :  therefore  knows  nothinjr 
of  the  skill  of  dress,  or  making  her  person  agreeable.  It 
would  make  you  laugh  to  see  me  often,  with  my  spectacles  on, 
lacing  her  stays  ;  for  she  is  so  very  a  wit,  that  she  understands 
no  ordinary  thing  in  the  world. 

For  this  reason,  I  have  disposed  of  her  to  a  man  of  business, 
who  will  soon  let  her  see,  that  to  be  well  dressed,  in  good 
humour,  and  cheerful  in  the  command  of  her  family,  are  the 
arts  and  sciences  of  female  life.  I  could  have  bestowed  her 
upon  a  fine  gentleman,  who  extremely  admired  her  wit,  and 
would  have  given  her  a  coach  and  six  :  but  I  found  it  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  cross  the  strain  ;  for  had  they  met,  they  had 
entirely  been  rivals  in  discourse,  and  in  continual  contention 
for  the  superiority  of  understanding,  and  brought  forth  critics, 
pedants,  or  pretty  good  poets.  As  it  is  I  expect  an  offspring 
fit  for  the  habitation  of  the  city,  town,  or  country ;  creatures 
that  are  docile  and  tractable  in  whatever  we  put  them  to. 


No.  75.]  JENXY    DISTAFF.  1U3 

To  convince  men  of  the  necessity  of  taking  this  method,  let 
any  one,  even  below  the  skill  of  an  astrologer,  behold  the  turn 
of  faces  he  meets  as  soon  as  he  passes  Cheapside  Conduit,  and 
you  see  a  deep  attention  and  a  certain  unthinking  sharpness 
in  every  countenance.  They  look  attentive,  but  their  thoughts 
are  engaged  on  mean  purposes.  To  me  it  is  very  apparent, 
when  I  see  a  citizen  pass  by,  whether  his  head  is  upon  woollen, 
silks,  iron,  sugar,  indigo,  or  stocks.  Now  this  trace  of  thought 
appears  or  lies  hid  in  the  race  for  two  or  three  generations. 

I  know  at  this  time  a  person  of  a  vast  estate,  who  is  the 
immediate  descendant  of  a  fine  gentleman,  but  the  great-grand- 
son of  a  broker,  in  whom  his  ancestor  is  now  revived.  He  is  a 
very  honest  gentleman  in  his  principles,  but  cannot  for  his 
blood  talk  fairly  :  he  is  heartily  sorry  for  it  ;  but  he  cheats  by 
constitution,  and  over-reaches  by  instinct. 

The  happiness  of  the  man  who  marries  my  sister  will  be,  that 
he  has  no  faults  to  correct  in  her  but  her  own,  a  little  bias  of 
fancy,  or  particularity  of  manners,  which  grew  in  herself,  and 
can  be  amended  by  her.  From  such  an  untainted  couple,  we 
can  hope  to  have  our  family  rise  to  its  antieut  splendour  of  face, 
air,  countenance,  manner,  and  shape,  without  discovering  the 
product  of  ten  nations  in  one  house.  Obadiah  Greenhat  says, 
"he  never  comes  into  any  company  in  England,  but  he 
distinguishes  the  different  nations  of  which  we  are  composed." 
There  is  scarce  such  a  living  creature  as  a  true  Briton.  "We 
sit  down  indeed  all  friends,  acquaintance,  and  neighbours  ; 
but  after  two  bottles,  you  see  a  Dane  start  up  and  swear, 
"  The  kingdom  is  his  own."  A  Saxon  drinks  up  the  whole 
quart,  and  swears,  "He  will  dispute  that  with  him."  A 
Norman  tells  them  both,  "  He  will  assert  his  liberty  : "  and  a 
Welchman  cries,  "They  are  all  foreigners  and  intruders  of 
yesterday,"  and  beats  them  out  of  the  room.  Such  accidents 
happen  frequently  among  neighbours'  children,  and  cousin- 
germans.  For  which  reason,  I  say,  study  your  race  ;  or  the 
soil  of  your  family  will  dwindle  into  cits  or  esquires,  or  run  up 
into  wits  or  madmen. 


104  THE    TATLER  [No.  77. 

VALETUDINAEIANS. 

No.  77.     THURSDAY,  October  6,  1709.      [Steele.] 

As  bad  as  the  world  is,  I  find  by  very  strict  observation 
upon  virtue  and  vice,  that  if  men  appeared  no  worse  than  they 
really  are,  I  should  have  less  work  than  at  present  I  am 
obliged  to  undertake  for  their  reformation.  They  have 
generally  taken  up  a  kind  of  inverted  ambition,  and  affect 
even  faults  and  imperfections  of  which  they  are  innocent. 
The  other  day  in  a  coffee-house  I  stood  by  a  young  heir,  with 
a  fresh,  sanguine,  and  healthy  look,  who  entertained  us  with 
an  account  of  his  diet-drinks  ;  though,  to  my  knowledge,  he  is 
as  sound  as  any  of  his  tenants. 

This  worthy  youth  put  me  into  reflections  upon  that  subject ; 
and  I  observed  the  fantastical  humour  to  be  so  general,  that 
there  is  hardly  a  man  who  is  not  more  or  less  tainted  with  it. 
The  first  of  this  order  of  men  are  the  Valetudinarians,  who  are 
never  in  health  ;  but  complain  of  want  of  stomach  or  rest 
every  day  until  noon,  and  then  devour  all  which  comes  before 
them.  Lady  Dainty  *  is  convinced,  that  it  is  necessary  for  a 
gentlewoman  to  be  out  of  order  ;  and,  to  preserve  that 
character,  she  dines  every  day  in  her  closet  at  twelve,  that  she 
may  become  her  table  at  two,  and  be  unable  to  eat  in  public. 
About  five  years  ago,  I  remember,  it  was  the  fashion  to  be 
short-sighted.  A  man  would  not  own  an  acquaintance  until 
he  had  first  examined  him  with  his  glass.  At  a  lady's 
entrance  into  the  play-house,  you  might  see  tubes  immediately 
levelled  at  her  from  every  quarter  of  the  pit  and  side-boxes. 
However,  that  mode  of  infirmity  is  out,  and  the  age  has 
recovered  its  sight  :  but  the  blind  seem  to  he  succeeded  by 
the  lame,  and  a  jaunty  limp  is  the  present  beauty.  I  think  I 
have  formerly  observed,  a  cane  is  part  of  the  dress  of  a  prig, 
and  always  worn  upon  a  button,  for  fear  he  should  be  thought 

*  The  name  given  to  an  affected  invalid  lady  by  Colley  Gibber,  in  his  play 
of  "  The  Double  Gallant,  or  Sick  Lady's  Cure." 


No.  77.]  VALETUDINARIANS.  105 

to  have  an  occasion  for  it,  or  be  esteemed  really,  and  not 
genteelly,  a  cripple.  I  have  considered,  but^could  never  find 
out,  the  bottom  of  this  vanity.  I  indeed  have  heard  of  a 
Gascon  general,  who,  by  the  lucky  grazing  of  a  bullet  on  the 
roll  of  his  stocking,  took  occasion  to  halt  all  his  life  after. 
But  as  for  our  peaceable  cripples,  I  know  no  foundation  for 
their  behaviour,  without  it  may  be  supposed  that,  in  this  war- 
like age,  some  think  a  cane  the  next  honour  to  a  wooden  leg. 
This  sort  of  affectation  I  have  known  run  from  one  limb  or 
member  to  another.  Before  the  limpers  came  in,  I  remember 
a  race  of  lispers,  fine  persons,  who  took  an  aversion  to  particular 
letters  in  our  language.  Some  never  uttered  the  letter  H  ; 
and  others  had  as  mortal  an  aversion  to  S.  Others  have  had 
their  fashionable  defect  in  their  ears,  and  would  make  you 
repeat  all  you  said  twice  over.  I  know  an  ancient  friend  of 
mine,  whose  table  is  every  day  surrounded  with  flatterers,  that 
makes  use  of  this,  sometimes  as  a  piece  of  grandeur,  and  at 
others  as  an  art,  to  make  them  repeat  their  commendations. 
Such  affectations  have  been  indeed  in  the  world  in  ancient 
times  ;  but  they  fell  into  them  out  of  politic  ends.  Alexander 
the  Great  had  a  wry  neck,  which  made  it  the  fashion  in  his 
court  to  carry  their  heads  on  one  side  when  they  came  into 
the  presence.  One  who  thought  to  outshine  the  whole  court, 
carried  his  head  so  over  complaisantly,  that  this  martial  prince 
gave  him  so  great  a  box  on  the  ear,  as  set  all  the  heads  of  the 
court  upright. 

This  humour  takes  place  in  our  minds  as  well  as  bodies.  I 
know  at  this  time  a  young  gentleman,  who  talks  atheistically 
all  day  in  coffee-houses,  and  in  his  degrees  of  understanding  sets 
up  for  a  Free-thinker  ;  though  it  can  be  proved  upon  him,  he 
says  his  prayers  every  morning  and  evening.  But  this  class  of 
modern  wits  I  shall  reserve  for  a  chapter  by  itself. 

Of  the  like  turn  are  all  your  marriage-haters,  who  rail  at  the 
noose,  at  the  words,  "  for  ever  and  aye,"  and  at  the  same  time 
are  secretly  pining  for  some  young  thing  or  other  that  makes 
their  hearts  ache  by  her  refusal.  The  next  to  these,  are  such 
as  pretend  to  govern  their  wives,  and  boast  how  ill  they  use 

I  2 


106  THE  TATLER.  [No.  77. 

them  ;  when  at  the  same  time,  go  to  their  houses,  and  you 
shall  see  them  step  as  if  they  feared  making  a  noise,  and  as 
fond  as  an  alderman.  I  do  not  know  but  sometimes  these 
pretences  may  arise  from  a  desire  to  conceal  a  contrary  defect 
than  that  they  set  up  for.  I  remember,  when  I  was  a  young 
fellow,  we  had  a  companion  of  a  very  fearful  complexion,  who, 
when  we  sat  in  to  drink,  would  desire  us  to  take  his  sword 
from  him  when  he  grew  fuddled,  for  it  was  his  misfortune  to 
be  quarrelsome. 

There  are  many,  many  of  these  evils,  which  demand  my 
observation  ;  but  because  I  have  of  late  been  thought  some- 
what too  satirical,  I  shall  give  them  warning,  and  declare  to 
the  whole  world,  that  they  are  not  true,  but  false  hypocrites  ; 
and  make  it  out  that  they  are  good  men  in  their  hearts.     The 
motive  of  this  monstrous  affectation,  in  the  above-mentioned 
and  the  like  particulars,  I  take  to  proceed  from  that  noble 
thirst  of  fame  and  reputation  which  is  planted  in  the  hearts  of 
all  men.      As   this    produces    elegant  writings   and   gallant 
actions  in  men  of  great  abilities,  it  also  brings  forth  spurious 
productions   in  men  who  are  not  capable  of  distinguishing 
themselves  by  things  which  are  really  praise- worthy.     As  the 
desire  of  fame  in  men  of  true  wit  and  gallantry  shews  itself  in 
proper   instances,   the    same    desire    in  men   who   have   the 
ambition  without  proper  faculties,  runs   wild,  and   discovers 
itself    in   a   thousand  extravagances,   by   which   they   would 
signalize  themselves  from  others,  and  gain  a  set  of  admirers. 
When  I  was  a  middle-aged  man,  there  were  many  societies  of 
ambitious  young  men  in  England,  who,  in  their  pursuits  after 
fame,  were  every  night  employed  in  roasting  porters,  smoaking 
coblers,   knocking    down   watchmen,   overturning  constables, 
breaking   windows,  blackening   sign-posts,  and  the  like  im- 
mortal enterprizes,  that  dispersed  their  reputation  throughout 
the  whole  kingdom.     One  could  hardly  find  a  knocker  at  a  door 
in  a  whole  street  after  a  midnight  expedition  of  these  Beaux 
Esprits.     I   was  lately  very  much   surprised  by   an  account 
of  my  maid,  who  entered  my  bed-chamber  this  morning  in  a 
very  great  fright,  and  told  me,  she  was  aft-aid  my  parlour  was 


No.  78.]     CLAIMANTS    FOR    THE    TABLE    OF    FAME.  107 

haunted  ;  for  that  she  had  found  several  panes  of  my  windows 
broken,  and  the  floor  strewed  with  half-pence.*  I  have  not 
yet  a  full  light  into  this  new  way,  but  am  apt  to  think,  that  it 
is  a  generous  piece  of  wit  that  some  of  my  contemporaries 
make  use  of,  to  break  windows,  and  leave  money  to  pay  for 
them. 


CLAIMANTS  FOE  THE  TABLE  OF  FAME. 

Xo.  78.      SATURDAY,  October  8,  1709.      [Steele.] 

As  your  painters,  who  deal  in  history-pieces,  often  entertain 
themselves  upon  broken  sketches,  and  smaller  flourishes  of  the 
pencil  j  so  I  find  some  relief  in  striking  out  miscellaneous 
hints,  and  sudden  starts  of  fancy,  without  any  order  or  con- 
nection, after  having  spent  myself  on  more  regular  and 
elaborate  dissertations.  I  am  at  present  in  this  easy  state  of 
mind  sat  down  to  my  scrutoir  ;  where,  for  the  better  dis- 
position of  my  correspondence,  I  have  writ  upon  every  drawer 
the  proper  title  of  its  contents  ;  as  hypocrisy,  dice,  patches, 
politics,  love,  duels,  and  so  forth.  My  various  advices  are 
ranged  under  such  several  heads,  saving  only  that  I  have  a 
particular  box  for  Pacolet,  and  another  for  Monoculus.  I 
cannot  but  observe,  that  my  duel-box,  which  is  filled  by  the 
lettered  men  of  honour,  is  so  very  ill  spelt,  that  it  is  hard  to 
decypher  their  writings.  My  love-box,  though  on  a  quite 
contrary  subject,  filled  with  the  works  of  the  fairest  hands  in 
Great  Britain,  is  almost  as  unintelligible.  The  private  drawer, 
which  is  sacred  to  politics,  has  in  it  some  of  the  most  refined 
panegyrics  and  satires  that  any  age  has  produced. 

I  have  now  before  me  several  recommendations  for  places 

*  Gray's  "Trivia"  was  published  about  this  time  ;  and  from  a  passage  in 
that  poem,  we  learn,  that  there  were  bucks  in  those  days,  who  took  a  delight 
in  breaking  windows  with  halfpence,  and  were  distinguished  by  the  name  of 
Nickers. 


108  THE    TATLER.  [No.  78. 

at  my  Table  of  Fame,  Three  of  them  are  of  an  extraordiuary 
nature,  in  which  I  find  I  am  misunderstood,  and  shall,  there- 
fore, beg  leave  to  produce  them.  They  are  fi'om  a  quaker,  a 
courtier,  and  a  citizen. 

"  Isaac, 

*'  Thy  lucubrations,  as  thou  lovest  to  call  them,  have 
been  perused  by  several  of  our  friends,  who  have  taken  offence  : 
forasmuch  as  thou  excludest  out  of  the  brotherhood  all  persons 
who  are  praiseworthy  for  religion,  we  are  afraid  that  thou  wilt 
fill  thy  table  with  none  but  heathens,  and  cannot  hope  to  spy  a 
brother  there  ;  for  there  are  none  of  us  who  can  be  placed 
among  murdering  heroes,  or  ungodly  wits  ;  since  we  do  not 
assail  our  enemies  with  the  arm  of  flesh,  nor  our  gainsayers 
with  the  vanity  of  human  wisdom.  If,  therefore,  thou  wilt 
demean  thyself  on  this  occasion  with  a  right  judgment,  accord- 
ing to  the  gifts  that  are  in  thee,  we  desire  thou  wilt  place 
James  Nayler  *  at  the  upper  end  of  thy  table. 

"  EZEKIEL  StIFFRUMP." 

In  answer  to  my  good  friend  Ezekiel,  I  must  stand  to  it, 
that  I  cannot  break  my  rule  for  the  sake  of  James  Nayler ; 
not  knowing,  whether  Alexander  the  Great,  who  is  a  choleric 
hero,  would  not  resent  his  sitting  at  the  upper  end  of  the  table 
with  his  hat  on. 

But  to  my  courtier. 
"  Sir, 

"  I  am  surprised,  that  you  lose  your  time  in  compli- 
menting the  dead,  when  you  may  make  your  court  to  the 
living.  Let  me  only  tell  you  in  the  ear,  Alexander  and  Caesar, 
as  generous  as  they  were  formerly,  have  not  now  a  groat  to 

*  This  visionary  was  about  eight  or  nine  years  in  the  Parliament's  army, 
and  is  said  to  have  been  converted  by  George  Fox  in  1651.  About  six  years 
after,  on  account  of  his  ravings,  he  was  apprehended  at  Bristol,  and  brought 
a  prisoner,  under  the  charge  of  blasphemy,  before  the  House  of  Commons. 
He  was  sentenced  to  be  pilloried,  and  whipped  in  London  and  Bristol,  to  have 
his  tongue  bored  through  with  a  red-hot  iron,  to  be  branded  with  a  B  in  his 
forehead,  and  committed  to  hard  labour  in  Bridewell, 


Xo.  78.]     CLAIMANTS    FOR    THE    TABLE    OF     FAME.  109 

dispose  of.  Fill  your  table  with  good  company  :  I  know  a 
person  of  quality  that  shall  give  you  one  hundred  pounds  for  a 
place  at  it.     Be  secret,  and  be  rich.       Yours, 

"  You  know  my  hand." 

This  gentleman  seems  to  have  the  true  spirit,  without  the 
formality,  of  an  uuder-courtier  ;  therefore,  1  shall  be  plain 
with  him,  and  let  him  leave  the  name  of  his  courtier  and  one 
hundred  pounds  in  Morphew's  hands  :  if  I  can  take  it,  I  will. 

My  citizen  writes  the  following  : 

"  Mr.  Isaac  Bickerstaff, 

"  Sir, 

"  Your  Tatler,  of  the  thirteenth  of  September,  I  am 
now  reading,  and  in  your  list  of  famous  men,  desire  you  not  to 
forget  alderman  Whittington,  who  began  the  world  with  a  cat, 
and  died  w^orth  three  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  pounds 
sterling,  which  he  left  to  an  only  daughter  three  years  after  his 
mayoralty.  If  you  want  any  farther  particulars  of  ditto  alder- 
man, daughter,  or  cat,  let  me  know,  and  per  first  will  advise 
the  needful  :  which  concludes,  your  loving  friend, 

"  Lemuel  Leger." 

I  shall  have  all  due  regard  to  this  gentleman's  recommen- 
dation ;  but  cannot  forbear  observing  how  wonderfully  this 
sort  of  style  is  adapted  for  the  dispatch  of  business,  by  leaving 
out  insignificant  particles ;  besides  that,  the  dropping  of  the 
first  person  is  an  artful  way  to  disengage  a  man  fi'om  the  guilt 
of  rash  words  or  promises.  But  I  am  to  consider,  that  a 
citizen's  reputation  is  credit,  not  fame  ;  and  am  to  leave 
these  lofty  subjects  for  a  matter  of  private  concern  in  the  next 
letter  before  me. 

"  Sir, 

*^  I  am  just  recovered  out  of  a  languishing  sickness 
by  the  care  of  Hippocrates,*  who  visited  me  throughout  my 

*  Th.e  physician  here  alluded  to  was  Dr.  (jrarth. 


no  THE    TATLER.  [No.  78. 

whole  illness,  and  was  so  far  from  taking  any  fee,  that  he  en- 
quired into  my  circumstances,  and  would  have  relieved  me 
also  that  way,  but  I  did  not  want  it.  I  know  no  method  of 
thanking  him,  but  recommending  it  to  you  to  celebrate  so 
great  humanity  in  the  manner  you  think  fit,  and  to  do  it  with 
the  spirit  and  sentiments  of  a  man  just  relieved  from  grief, 
misery,  and  pain,  to  joy,  satisfaction,  and  ease  :  in  which  you 
will  represent  the  grateful  sense  of  your  obedient  servant, 

"  T.  B.'' 

I  think  the  writer  of  this  letter  has  put  the  matter  in  as 
good  a  dress  as  I  can  for  him  ;  yet  I  cannot  but  add  my 
applause  to  what  this  distressed  man  has  said.  There  is  not  a 
more  useful  man  in  a  commonwealth  than  a  good  physician  : 
and  by  consequence  no  worthier  a  person  than  he  that  uses  his 
skill  with  generosity  even  to  persons  of  condition,  and  com- 
passion to  those  who  are  in  want :  which  is  the  behaviour  of 
Hippocrates,  who  shews  as  much  liberality  in  his  practice,  as 
he  does  wit  in  his  conversation,  and  skill  in  his  profession.  A 
wealthy  doctor,  who  can  help  a  poor  man,  and  will  not  without 
a  fee,  has  less  sense  of  liumauity  than  a  poor  ruffian,  who  kills 
a  rich  man  to  supply  his  necessities.  It  is  something 
monstrous,  to  consider  a  man  of  a  liberal  education  tearing 
out  the  bowels  of  a  poor  family,  by  taking  for  a  visit  what 
would  keep  them  a  week.  Hippocrates  needs  not  the  com- 
parison of  such  extortion  to  set  off  his  generosity  ;  but  I 
mention  his  generosity  to  add  shame  to  such  extortion. 


Xo.  79.]  MARRIAGE    OF    JEXXY    DISTAFF.  Ill 

MAEEIAGE   OF  JENNY  DISTAFF. 

No.  79.      TUESDAY,  October  11,  1709.      [Steele.] 

Felices,  ter  et  arax^lius, 

Quos  irrnpta  tenet  copula  ;  nee  malia 

Divulsus  qnerimoniis, 

Suprema  citius  solvet  amor  die. 

HoR.  1  Od.  xiii.  17. 

Thrice  happy  they,  in  pure  delights 
"Whom  love  in  mutual  bonds  unites, 
Unbroken  by  complaints  or  strife 
Even  to  the  latest  hours  of  life. 

My  sister  Jenny's  lover,  the  honest  Tranquillus,  for  that 
shall  be  his  name,  has  been  impatient  with  me  to  dispatch  the 
necessary  directions  for  his  marriage  ;  that  while  I  am  taken 
up  with  imaginary  schemes,  as  he  calls  them,  he  might  not 
burn  with  real  desire,  and  the  torture  of  expectation.  AYhen  I 
had  reprimanded  him  for  the  ardour  wherein  he  expressed  him- 
self, which  I  thought  had  not  enough  of  that  veneration  with 
which  the  marriage-bed  is  to  be  ascended,  I  told  him,  ^'  the 
day  of  his  nuptials  should  be  on  the  Saturday  following,  which 
was  the  eighth  instant."  On  the  seventh  in  the  evening,  poor 
Jenny  came  into  my  chamber,  and,  having  her  heart  full  of 
the  great  change  of  life  from  a  virgin  condition  to  that  of  a 
wife,  she  long  sat  silent.  I  saw  she  expected  me  to  entertain 
her  on  this  important  subject,  which  was  too  delicate  a  cir- 
cumstance for  herself  to  touch  upon  ;  whereupon  I  relieved 
her  modesty  in  the  following  manner  :  "  Sister,"  said  I,  "you 
are  now  going  from  me  :  and  be  contented,  that  you  leave  the 
company  of  a  talkative  old  man,  for  that  of  a  sober  young  one  : 
but  take  this  along  with  you,  that  there  is  no  mean  in  the 
state  you  are  entering  into,  but  you  are  to  be  exquisitely  happy 
or  miserable,  and  your  fortune  in  this  way  of  life  will  be 
wholly  of  your  own  making.  In  all  the  marriages  I  have  ever 
seen,  most  of  which  have  been  unhappy  ones,  the  great  cause 
of  evil  has  proceeded  from  slight  occasions  ;  and  I  take  it  to 
be  the  first  maxim  in  a  married  condition,  that  you  are  to  be 


112  THE    TATLER.  [No.  79. 

above  trifles.  AVlieii  two  persons  have  so  good  an  opinion  of 
each  other  as  to  come  together  for  life,  they  "will  not  differ  in 
matters  of  importance,  because  they  think  of  each  other  with 
respect ;  and  in  regard  to  all  things  of  consideration  that  may 
affect  them,  they  are  prepared  for  mutual  assistance  and  relief 
in  such  occurrences.  For  less  occasions,  they  form  no  resolu- 
tions, but  leave  their  minds  unprepared. 

*'  This,  dear  Jenny,  is  the  reason  that  the  quarrel  between 
Sir  Harry  Willit  and  his  lady,  which  began  about  her  squirrel, 
is  irreconcilable.  Sir  Harry  was  reading  a  grave  author  ;  she 
runs  into  his  study,  and,  in  a  playing  humour,  claps  the 
squirrel  upon  the  folio  :  he  threw  the  animal  in  a  rage  on  the 
floor  ;  she  snatches  it  up  again,  calls  Sir  Harry  a  sour  pedant, 
without  good  nature  or  good  manners.  This  cast  him  into 
such  a  rage,  that  he  threw  down  the  table  before  him,  kicked 
the  book  round  the  room  ;  then  recollected  himself :  *  Lord, 
madam,'  said  he,  '  why  did  you  run  into  such  expressions  ?  I 
■was,'  said  he,  '  in  the  highest  delight  with  that  author,  when 
you  clapped  your  squirrel  upon  my  book  ; '  and,  smiling,  added 
upon  recollection,  '  I  have  a  great  respect  for  your  favourite, 
and  pray  let  us  all  be  friends.'  My  lady  was  so  far  from 
accepting  this  apology,  that  she  immediately  conceived  a 
resolution  to  keep  him  under  for  ever  ;  and,  with  a  serious  air, 
replied,  '  There  is  no  regard  to  be  had  to  what  a  man  says, 
who  can  fall  into  so  indecent  a  rage,  and  such  an  abject  sub- 
mission, in  the  same  moment,  for  which  I  absolutely  despise 
you.'  Upon  which  she  rushed  out  of  the  room.  Sir  Harry 
staid  some  minutes  behind,  to  think  and  command  himself ; 
after  which  he  followed  her  into  her  bed-chamber,  where  she 
was  prostrate  upon  the  bed,  tearing  her  hair,  and  naming 
twenty  coxcombs  who  would  have  used  her  otherwise.  This 
provoked  him  to  so  high  a  degree,  that  he  forbore  nothing  but 
beating  her  ;  and  all  the  servants  in  the  family  were  at  their 
several  stations  listening,  whilst  the  best  man  and  woman,  the 
best  master  and  mistress,  defamed  each  other  in  a  way  that  is 
not  to  be  repeated  even  at  Billingsgate.  You  know  this  ended 
in  an  immediate  separation  :  she  longs  to  return  home,  but 


No.  79.]  MARRIAGE    OF    JEXXY    DISTAFF.  ll.S 

knows  not  how  to  do  it  :  he  invites  her  home  every  clay,  and 
lies  with  every  woman  he  can  get.  Her  husband  requires  no 
submission  of  her  ;  but  she  thinks  her  very  return  will  argue 
she  is  to  blame,  which  she  is  resolved  to  be  for  ever,  rather 
than  acknowledge  it.  Thus,  dear  Jenny,  my  great  advice  to 
you  is,  be  guarded  against  giving  or  receiving  little  provo- 
cations. Great  matters  of  offence  I  have  no  reason  to  fear 
either  from  you  or  your  husband." 

After  this,  we  turned  our  discourse  into  a  more  gay  style, 
and  parted  :  but  before  we  did  so,  I  made  her  resign  her  snuff- 
box for  ever,  and  half  drown  herself  with  washing  away  the 
stench  of  the  musty.* 

But  the  wedding  morning  arrived,  and  our  family  being  very 
numerous,  there  was  no  avoiding  the  inconvenience  of  making 
the  ceremony  and  festival  more  public,  than  the  modern  way 
of  celebrating  them  makes  me  approve  of.  The  bride  next 
morning  came  out  of  her  chamber,  dressed  with  all  the  art  and 
care  that  Mrs.  Toilet,  the  tire-woman,  could  bestow  on  her. 
She  was  on  her  wedding-day  three-and-twenty  :  her  person  is 
far  from  what  we  call  a  regular  beauty  ;  but  a  certain  sweet- 
ness in  her  countenance,  an  ease  in  her  shape  and  motion,  with 
an  unaffected  modesty  in  her  looks,  had  attractions  beyond 
what  symmetry  and  exactness  can  inspire,  without  the  addition 
of  these  endowments.  When  her  lover  entered  the  room,  her 
features  flushed  with  shame  and  joy  ;  and  the  ingenuous 
manner,  so  full  of  passion  and  of  awe,  with  which  Tranquillus 
approached  to  salute  her,  gave  me  good  omens  of  his  future 
behaviour  towards  her.  The  wedding  was  wholly  under  my 
care.  After  the  ceremony  at  church,  I  was  resolved  to  enter- 
tain the  company  with  a  dinner  suitable  to  the  occasion,  and 
pitched  upon  the  Apollo,t  at  the  Old-Devil  at  Temple-Bar,  as 
a  place  sacred  to  mirth  tempered  with  discretion,  where  Ben 
Jonson  and  his   sons   used   to  make   their  liberal  meetings. 

*  A  sort  of  snuff. 

t  A  large  room  at  the  Devil  Tavern  bore  this  name  till  the  house  was 
finally  shut  up  ;  the  rules  of  Ben's  club  remained  till  that  period  in  gold 
etters  over  the  chimney. 


114  THE    TATLEH.  [No.  79. 

Here  the  chief  of  the  Staffian  race  appeared  ;  and  as  soon  as 
the  company  were  come  into  that  ample  room,  Lepidus  "Wag- 
staff  began  to  make  me  compliments  for  choosing  that  place, 
and  fell  into  a  discourse  upon  the  subject  of  pleasure  and 
entertainment,  drawn  from  the  rules  of  Ben's  club,  which  are 
in  gold  letters  over  the  chimney.  Lepidus  has  a  way  very  un- 
common, and  speaks  on  subjects  on  which  any  man  else  would 
certainly  offend,  with  great  dexterity.  He  gave  us  a  large 
account  of  the  public  meetings  of  all  the  well-turned  minds 
who  had  passed  through  this  life  in  ages  past,  and  closed  his 
pleasing  narrative  with  a  discourse  on  marriage,  and  a 
repetition  of  the  following  verses  out  of  Milton.* 

"  Hail,  wedded  love  !  mysterious  law  !  true  source 
Of  human  offspring,  sole  propriety 
In  paradise,  of  all  things  common  else. 
By  thee  adulti-ous  lust  w^as  driven  from  men 
Among  the  bestial  herds  to  range  ;  by  thee, 
Founded  in  reason,  loyal,  just  and  pure, 
Eelations  dear,  and  all  the  charities 
Of  father,  son,  and  brother,  first  were  known. 
Perpetual  fountain  of  domestic  sweets. 
Whose  bed  is  undefxl'd  and  chaste  pronounc'd, 
Present  or  past,  as  saints  or  patriarchs  us"d. 
Here  Love  his  golden  shafts  employs  ;  here  lights 
His  constant  lamp,  and  waves  his  purple  wings  : 
Reigns  here,  and  revels  not  in  the  bought  smile 
Of  harlots,  loveless,  joyless,  unendear'd, 
Casual  fruition  ;  nor  in  court  amours, 
Mix'd  dance,  or  wanton  mask,  or  midnight  ball, 
Or  serenade,  which  the  starv'd  lover  sings 
To  his  proud  fair,  best  quitted  with  disdain." 

In  these  verses,  all  the  images  that  can  come  into  a  young  • 
woman's  head  on  such  an  occasion  are  raised  ;  but  that  in  so 
chaste  and  elegant  a  manner,  that  the  bride  thanked  him  for 
his  agreeable  talk,  and  we  sat  down  to  dinner. 

Among  the  rest  of  the  company,  there  was  got  in  a  fellow 
you  call  a  Wag.  This  ingenious  person  is  the  usual  life  of  all 
feasts  and  merriments,  by  speaking  absurdities,  and  putting 
everybody  of  breeding  and  modesty  out  of  countenance.     As 

*  Paradise  Lost,  iv,  750. 


No.  81.]  A    DREAM.  116 

soon  as  we  sat  down,  he  drank  to  the  bride's  diversion  that 
night ;  and  then  made  twenty  double  meanings  on  the  word 
thing.  We  are  the  best-bred  family,  for  one  so  numerous,  in 
this  kingdom  ;  and  indeed  we  should  all  of  us  have  been  as 
much  out  of  countenance  as  the  bride,  but  that  we  were 
relieved  by  an  honest  rough  relation  of  ours  at  the  lower  end 
of  the  table,  who  is  a  lieutenant  of  marines.  The  soldier  and 
sailor  had  good  plain  sense,  and  saw  what  was  wrong  as  well 
as  another ;  he  had  a  way  of  looking  at  his  plate,  and  speaking 
aloud  in  an  inward  manner  ;  and  whenever  the  Wag  men- 
tioned the  word  thing,  or  the  words,  that  same,  the  lieutenant 
in  that  voice  cried,  "■  Knock  him  down."  The  merry  man, 
wondering,  angry,  and  looking  round,  was  the  diversion  of  the 
table.  When  he  offered  to  recover,  and  say,  ''  To  the  bride's 
best  thoughts,"  ''  Knock  him  down,"  says  the  lieutenant,  and 
so  on.  This  silly  humour  diverted,  and  saved  us  from  the  ful- 
some entertainment  of  an  ill-bred  coxcomb  ;  and  the  bride 
drank  the  lieutenant's  health.  We  returned  to  my  lodging, 
and  Tranquillus  led  his  wife  to  her  apartment,  without  the 
ceremony  of  throwing  the  stocking. 


A  DEEAM. 

^0.  81.     SATURDAY,  October  15,  1709. 
[Addison  and  Steele.] 

Hie  manus  ob  patriam  pugnando  vulnera  passi, 

Quique  pii  vates,  et  Phoebo  digna  locuti ; 
Inventas  aut  qui  vitam  excoluere  per  artes, 
Quique  sui  memores  alios  fecere  merendo. 

YiRG.  .2En.  vi.  660. 

Here  patriots  live,  who,  for  their  country's  good, 

In  fighting  fields  were  prodigal  of  blood  ; 

Here  poets  worthy  their  inspiring  god, 
And  of  unblemish'd  life,  make  their  abode  : 


116  THE    TATLER.  [No.  81. 

And  searching  witp,  of  more  mechanic  parts, 
Who  grac'd  their  age  with  new- invented  arts  : 
Those  who  to  worth  their  bounty  did  extend  ; 
And  those  who  knew  that  bounty  to  commend. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  immortality  ;  that  which  the  soul 
reall}^  enjoys  after  this  life,  and  that  imaginary  existence  by 
which  men  live  in  their  fame  and  reputation.  The  best  and 
greatest  actions:  have  proceeded  from  the  prospect  of  the  one 
or  the  other  of  these  ;  but  my  design  is  to  treat  only  of  those 
who  have  chiefly  proposed  to  themselves  the  latter,  as  the 
principal  reward  of  their  labours.  It  was  for  this  reason  that 
I  excluded  from  my  Tables  of  Fame  all  the  great  founders  and 
votaries  of  religion  ;  and  it  is  for  this  reason  also,  that  I  am 
more  than  ordinary  anxious  to  do  justice  to  the  persons  of 
whom  I  am  now  going  to  speak  ;  for,  since  fame  was  the  only 
end  of  all  their  enterprizes  and  studies,  a  man  cannot  be  too 
scrupulous  in  allotting  them  their  due  proportion  of  it.  It 
was  this  consideration  which  made  me  call  the  whole  body  of 
the  learned  to  my  assistance ;  to  many  of  whom  I  must  own 
my  obligations  for  the  catalogues  of  illustrious  persons,  which 
they  have  sent  me  in  upon  this  occasion.  I  yesterday  em- 
ployed the  whole  afternoon  in  comparing  them  with  each 
other  ;  which  made  so  strong  an  impression  upon  my  imagina- 
tion, that  they  broke  my  sleep  for  the  first  part  of  the  following 
night,  and  at  length  threw  me  into  a  very  agreeable  Vision, 
which  I  shall  beg  leave  to  describe  in  all  its  particulars. 

I  dreamed  that  I  was  conveyed  into  a  wide  and  boundless 
plain,  that  was  covered  with  prodigious  multitudes  of  people, 
which  no  man  could  number..  In  the  midst  of  it  there  stood 
a  mountain,  with  its  head  above  the  clouds.  The  sides  were 
extremely  steep,  and  of  such  a  particular  structure,  that  no 
creature  which  was  not  made  in  an  human  figure  could  possibly 
ascend  it.  On  a  sudden  there  was  heard  from  the  top  of  it  a 
sound  like  that  of  a  trumpet  ;  but  so  exceeding  sweet  and 
harmonious,  that  it  filled  the  hearts  of  those  who  heard  it  with 
raptures,  and  gave  such  high  and  delightful  sensations,  as 
seemed  to  animate  nnd  raise  human  nature  above  itself.     This 


No.  81.]  A    DREAM.  117 

made  me  very  much  amazed  to  find  so  very  few  in  that  innu- 
merable multitude,  who  had  ears  fine  enough  to  hear,  or  relish 
this  music  with  pleasure  :  but  my  wonder  abated,  when,  upon 
looking  round  me,  I  saw  most  of  them  attentive  to  three 
Syrens,  clothed  like  Goddesses,  and  distinguished  by  the 
names  of  Sloth,  Ignorance,  and  Pleasure.  They  were  seated 
on  three  rocks,  amidst  a  beautiful  variety  of  groves,  meadows, 
and  rivulets,  that  lay  on  the  borders  of  the  mountain.  While 
the  base  and  groveling  multitude  of  different  nations,  ranks, 
and  ages  were  listening  to  these  delusive  Deities,  those  of  a 
more  erect  aspect,  and  exalted  spirit,  separated  themselves 
from  the  rest,  and  marched  in  great  bodies  towards  the  moun- 
tain from  whence  they  heard  the  sound,  which  still  grew 
sweeter,  the  more  they  listened  to  it. 

On  a  sudden  methought  this  select  band  sprang  forward, 
with  a  resolution  to  climb  the  ascent,  and  follow  the  call  of 
that  heavenly  music.     Every  one  took  something  with  him 
that  he  thought  might  be  of  assistance  to  him  in  his  march. 
Several  had  their  swords  drawn,  some  carried  rolls  of  paper  in 
their  hands,   some  had   compasses,  others  quadrants,  others 
telescopes,   and   others  pencils.     Some  had  laurels  on  their 
heads,  and  others  buskins  on  their  legs  ;  in  short,  there  was 
scarce  any  instrument  of  a  mechanic  art,  or  liberal  science, 
which   was   not  made   use   of  on   this   occasion.      My   good 
Daemon,  who  stood  at  my  right  hand  during  the  course  of  this 
whole  vision,  observing  in  me  a  burning  desire  to  join  that 
glorious  company,  told  me,  "  he  highly  approved  that  generous 
ardour  with  which  I   seemed  transported  ;  but  at  the  same 
time  advised  me  to  cover  my  face  with  a  mask  all  the  while  I 
was  to  labour  on  the  ascent."     I  took  his  council,  without  en- 
quiring into  his  reasons.     The  whole  body  now  broke  into 
different  parties,  and   began   to  climb  the  precipice  by  ten 
thousand  different  paths.     Several  got  into  little  alleys,  which 
did  not  reach  far  up  the  hill,  before  they  ended,  and  led  no 
farther  ;  and  I  observed,  that  most  of  the  artizans,  which  con- 
siderably diminished  our  number,  fell  into  these  paths. 

We  left  another  considerable  body  of  adventurers  behind  us, 


118  THE    TATLER.  [No.  81. 

who  thought  they  had  discovered  by-ways  up  the  hill,  which 
proved   so   very   intricate   and   perplexed,  that,  after  having 
advanced  in  them  a  little,   they  were   quite   lost  among  the 
several  turns  and  windings  ;  and  though  they  were  as  active 
as  any  in  their  motions,  they  made  but  little  progress  in  the 
ascent.     These,  as  my  guide  informed  me,  were  men  of  subtle 
tempers,  and  puzzled  politics,  who  would  supply  the  place  of 
real  wisdom  with  cunning   and  artifice.     Among  those  who 
were  far  advanced  in  their  way,  there  were  some  that  by  one 
false  step  fell  backward,  and  lost  more  ground  in  a  moment 
than  they  had  gained  for  many  hours,  or  could  be  ever  able  to 
recover.     We  were  now  advanced  very  high,  and  observed  that 
all  the  different  paths  which  ran  about  the  sides  of  the  moun- 
tain began   to   meet   in   two   great  roads ;  which  insensibly 
gathered  the   whole   multitude   of  travellers   into  two  great 
bodies.     At  a  little  distance  from  the  entrance  of  each  road 
there  stood  an   hideous  phantom,  that  opposed  our  farther 
passage.     One  of  these  apparitions  had  his  right  hand  filled 
with  darts,  which  he  brandislied  in  the  face  of  all  who  came  up 
that  way.     Crowds  ran  back  at  the  appearance  of  it,  and  cried 
out,   Death.     The   spectre   that  guarded  the  other  road  was 
Envy.     She  was  not  armed  with  weapons  of  destruction,  like 
the  former ;  but  by  dreadful  hissings,  noises  of  reproach,  and 
a  horrid  distracted  laughter,  she  appeared  more  frightful  than 
Death  itself,  insomuch,  that  abundance  of  our  company  were 
discom-aged  from   passing   any  farther,   and   some   appeared 
ashamed  of  having  come  so  far.     As  for  myself,  I  must  con- 
fess, my  heart  shrunk  within  me  at  the  sight  of  these  ghastly 
appearances  ;  but,  on  a  sudden,  the  voice  of  the  trumpet  came 
more  full  upon  us,  so  that  we  felt  a  new  resolution  reviving  in 
us  ;  and  in   proportion   as   this  resolution  grew,  the   terrors 
before  us  seemed  to  vanish.     Most  of  the  company,  who  had 
swords  in  their  hands,  marched  on  with   great  spirit,  and  an 
air  of  defiance,  up  the  road  that  was  commanded  by  Death  ; 
while  others,  who   had  thought  and  contemplation  in  their 
looks,  went  forward  in  a  more  composed  manner  up  the  road 
possessed  by  Envy.     The  way  above  these  apparitions  grew 


Xo.  81.]  A    DREAM,  119 

smooth  and  imiform,  and  was  so  delightful,  that  the  travellers 
went  on  with  pleasure,  and  in  a  little  time  arrived  at  the  top 
of  the  mountain.  They  here  began  to  breathe  a  delicious  kind 
of  asther,  and  saw  all  the  fields  about  them  covered  with  a 
kind  of  purple  light,  that  made  them  reflect  with  satisfaction 
on  their  past  toils ;  and  diifused  a  secret  joy  through  the 
whole  assembly,  which  shewed  itself  in  every  look  and  feature. 
In  the  midst  of  these  happy  fields  there  stood  a  palace  of  a  very 
glorious  structure.  It  had  four  great  folding-doors,  that  faced 
the  four  several  quarters  of  the  world.  On  the  top  of  it  was 
enthroned  the  Goddess  of  the  mountain,  who  smiled  upon  her 
votaries,  and  sounded  the  silver  trumpet  which  had  called  them 
up,  and  cheered  them  in  their  passage  to  her  palace.  They 
had  nov,'  formed  themselves  into  several  divisions  ;  a  band  of 
historians  taking  their  stations  at  each  door,  according  to  the 
persons  whom  they  were  to  introduce. 

On  a  sudden,  the  trumpet,  which  had  hitherto  sounded  only 
a  march,  or  a  point  of  war,  now  swelled  all  its  notes  into 
triumph  and  exultation.  The  whole  fabric  shook,  and  the 
doors  flew  open.  The  first  who  stepped  forward  was  a  beauti- 
ful and  blooming  hero,  and  as  I  heard  by  the  murmurs  round 
me,  Alexander  the  Great.  He  was  conducted  by  a  crowd  of 
historians.  The  person  who  immediately  walked  before  him 
was  remarkable  for  an  embroidered  garment,  who,  not  being 
well  acquainted  with  the  place,  was  conducting  him  to  an 
apartment  appointed  for  the  reception  of  fabulous  heroes.  The  7 
name  of  this  false  guide  was  Quintus  Curtius.  But  Arrian  ( 
and  Plutarch,  who  knew  better  the  avenues  of  this  palace,  con- 
ducted him  into  the  great  hall,  and  placed  him  at  the  upper 
end  of  the  first  table.  My  good  DaBmon,  that  I  might  see  the 
whole  ceremony,  conveyed  me  to  a  corner  of  this  room,  where  I 
might  perceive  all  that  passed,  without  being  seen  myself.  The 
next  who  entered  was  a  charmiug  virgin,  leading  in  a  vener- 
able old  man  that  was  blind.  Under  her  left  arm  she  bore  a 
harp,  and  on  her  head  a  garland.  Alexander,  who  was  very 
well  acquainted  with  Homer,  stood  up  at  his  entrance,  and 
placed  him  on  his  right  hand.     The  virgii],  who  it  seems  was 

K 


120  THE    TATJ.ER.  [No.  8U 

one  of  the  nine  sisters  that  attended  on  the  Goddess  of  Fame, 
smiled  \Tith  an  ineffable  grace  at  their  meeting,  and  retired. 

Julius  Ca3sar  was  now  coming  forward  ;  and  though  most 
of  the  historians  offered  their  service  to  introduce  him,  he  left 
them  at  the  door,  and  would  have  no  conductor  but  himself. 

The  next  who  advanced  was  a  man  of  an  homely  but  cheer- 
ful aspect,  and  attended  by  persons  of  greater  figure  than  any 
that  appeared  on  this  occasion.  Plato  was  on  his  right  hand, 
and  Xenophon  on  his  left.  He  bowed  to  Homer,  and  sat  down 
by  him.  It  was  expected  that  Plato  would  himself  have  taken 
a  place  next  to  his  master  Socrates  ;  but  on  a  sudden  there  was 
heard  a  great  clamour  of  disputants  at  the  door,  who  appeared 
with  Aristotle  at  the  head  of  them.  That  philosopher,  with 
some  rudeness,  but  great  strength  of  reason,  convinced  the 
whole  table,  that  a  title  to  the  fifth  place  was  his  due,  and  took 
it  accordingly. 

He  had  scarce  sat  down,  when  the  same  beautiful  virgin  that 
had  introduced  Homer  brought  in  another,  who  hung  back  at 
the  entrance,  and  would  have  excused  himself,  had  not  his 
modesty  been  overcome  by  the  invitation  of  all  who  sat  at  the 
table.  His  guide  and  behaviour  made  me  easily  conclude  it  was 
Virgil.  Cicero  next  appeared,  and  took  his  place.  He  had 
inquired  at  the  door  for  one  Lucceius  to  introduce  him  ;  but,  not 
findino-  him  there,  he  contented  himself  with  the  attendance  of 
many  other  writers,  who  all,  except  Sallust,  appeared  highly 
pleased  with  the  office. 

We  waited  some  time  in  expectation  of  the  next  worth}',  who 
came  in  with  a  great  retinue  of  historians,  whose  names  I  could 
not  learn,  most  of  them  being  natives  of  Carthage.  The  per- 
son thus  conducted,  who  was  Hannibal,  seemed  much  disturbed, 
and  could  not  forbear  complaining  to  the  board  of  the  affronts 
he  had  met  with  among  the  Roman  historians,  "who  attempted," 
says  he,  "  to  carry  me  into  the  subterraneous  apartment ;  and, 
perhaps,  would  have  done  it,  had  it  not  been  for  the  impartial- 
ity of  tiiis  gentleman,"  pointing  to  Polybius,  "  who  was  the  only 
person,  except  my  own  countrymen,  that  was  willing  to  con- 
duct me  hither." 


X(3.  81.]  A    DREAM.  121 

The  Carthaginian  took  his  seat,  and  Pompey  enterocl  with 
great  dignity  in  his  own  person,  and  preceded  by  several  his- 
torians.    Lncan  the  poet  was  at  the  head  of  them,  who  observ- 
ing Homer  and  Virgil  at  the  table,  was  gohig  to  sit  down  him- 
self, had  not  the  latter  whispered  him,  that  whatever  pretence 
he  might  otherwise  have  had,  he  forfeited  his  claim  to  it,  by 
coming  in  as  one  of  the  histoiians.     Lncan  was  so  exasperated 
with  the  repulse,  that  he  muttered  something  to  himself ;  and 
was  heard  to  say,  "  that  since  he  could  not  have  a  seat  among 
them  himself,  he  would  bring  in  one  who  alone  had  more  merit 
than  their  whole  assembly  :"  upon  which  he  went  to  the  door, 
and  brought  in  Cato  of  Utica.     That  great  man  approached 
the  company  with  such  an  air,  that  showed  he  contemned  the 
honour  which  he  laid  a  chiim  to.     Observing  the  seat  opposite 
to  Ctesar  was  vacant  he  took  possession  of  it,  and  spoke  two  or 
three  smart  sentences  upon  the  nature  of  precedency,  which, 
according  to  him,  consisted  not  in  place,  but  in  intrinsic  merit ; 
to  which  he  added,  "  that  the  most  virtuous  man,  wherever  he 
was  seated,  was  always  at  the  upper  end  of  the  table."  Socrates, 
who  had  a  great  spirit  of  raillery  with  his  wisdom,  could  not 
forbear  smiling  at  a  virtue  which  took  so  little  pains  to  make 
itself  agreeable.     Cicero  took  the  occasion  to  make  a  long  dis- 
course in  praise  of  Cato,  which  he  uttered  with  much  vehe- 
mence.    Cc^sar  answered  him  with  a  great  deal  of  seeming 
temper  ;  but,  as  I  stood  at  a  great  distance  from  them,  I  was 
not  able  to  hear  one  word  of  what  they  said.     But  I  could  not 
forbear  taking  notice,  that,  in  all  the  discourse  which  passed  at 
the  table,  a  word  or  nod  from  Homer  decided  the  controversy. 
After  a  short  pause,  Augustus  appeared,  looking  round  him 
with  a  serene  and  affable  countenance  upon  all  the  writers  of 
his  age,  who  strove  among  themselves  which  of  them  should 
shew  him  the  greatest  marks  of  gratitude  and  respect.     Virgil 
rose  from  the  table  to  meet  him  ;   and  though  he  was  an  accep- 
table guest  to  all,  he  appeared  more  such  to  the  learned,  than 
the  military  worthies. 

The  next  man  astonished  the  whole  table  with  his  appear- 
ance.    He   was    slow,    solemn,   and   silent   in  his  behaviour. 

K  2 


122  THE    TATLER.  [No.  81. 

and  wore  a  raiment  curiously  wrought  with  hieroglyphics. 
As  he  came  into  the  middle  of  the  room,  he  threw  back 
the  skirt  of  it,  and  discovered  a  golden  thigh.  Socrates,  at 
the  sight  of  it,  declared  against  keeping  company  with  any 
who  were  not  made  of  flesh  and  blood  ;  and,  therefore,  desired 
Diogenes  the  Laertian  to  lead  him  to  the  apartment  allotted 
for  fabulous  heroes,  and  worthies  of  dubious  existence.  At  his 
going  out,  he  told  them,  "  that  they  did  not  know  whom  they 
dismissed  ;  that  he  was  now  Pythagoras,  the  first  of  philoso- 
phers, and  that  formerly  he  had  been  a  very  brave  man  at 
the  siege  of  Troy." — "  That  may  be  very  true,"  said  Socrates  ; 
"but  you  forget  that  you  have  likewise  been  a  very  great 
harlot  in  3^our  time."  This  exclusion  made  way  for  Archimedes, 
who  came  forward  with  a  scheme  of  mathematical  figures  in  his 
hand  ;  among  which  I  observed  a  cone  and  a  cylinder.  Seeing 
this  table  full,  I  desired  my  guide,  for  variety,  to  lead  me  to 
the  fabulous  apartment,  the  roof  of  which  was  painted  with 
Gorgons,  Chimeras,  and  Centaurs,  with  many  other  emblema- 
tical figures,  which  I  wanted  both  time  and  skill  to  unriddle. 
The  first  table  was  almost  full :  at  the  upper  end  sat  Hercules, 
leaning  an  arm  upon  his  club  ;  on  his  right  hand  were  Achilles 
and  Ulysses,  and  between  them  ^neas  ;  on  his  left  were  Hec- 
tor, Theseus,  and  Jason  :  the  lower  end  had  Orpheus,  ^sop, 
Phalaris,  and  Musasus.  The  ushers  seemed  at  a  loss  for  a 
twelfth  man,  when,  methought,  to  my  great  joy  and  surprise,  I 
heard  some  at  the  lower  end  of  the  table  mention  Isaac  Bicker- 
staff;  but  those  of  the  upper  end  received  it  with  disdain  ;  and 
said,  "  if  they  must  have  a  British  worthy,  they  would  have 
Robin  Hood." 

While  I  was  transported  with  the  honour  that  was  done  me, 
and  burning  with  envy  against  my  competitor,  I  was  awakened 
by  the  noise  of  the  cannon  which  were  then  fired  for  the  taking 
of  Mons.*  I  should  have  been  very  much  troubled  at  being 
throw^n  out  of  so  pleasing  a  vision  on  any  other  occasion  ;  but 
thought  it  an  agreeable  change,  to  have  my  thoughts  diverted 

*  The  town  of  Mons  surrendered  Oct.  21,  1709, 


Xo.  S3.]     CRITICISMS    ON    THE    "TABLE    OF    FAME."  123 

from  the  greatest  among  the  dead  and  fabulous  heroes,  to  the 
most  famous  among  the  real  and  the  living. 


CRITICISMS  OX  THE  ''TABLE  OF  FAME." 

No.  83.    THUESDAY,  October  20,  1700.     [Steele.] 

Senilis  stultitia,  qure  deliratio  appellari  solet,  sonum  levium  est,  non 
omnium. — M.  T.  Cic. 

That  which  is  iisnally  called  dotage  is  not  the  foible  of  all  old  men,  but 
only  of  such  as  are  remarkable  for  their  levity  and  inconstanc}'. 

It  is  my  frequent  practice  to  visit  places  of  resort  in  this 
town  where  I  am  least  known,  to  observe  what  reception  my 
works  meet  with  in  the  world,  and  what  good  effects  I  may 
promise  myself  from  my  labours  :  and  it  being  a  privilege 
asserted  by  monsieur  Montaigne,  and  others,  of  vain-glorious 
memory,  that  we  writers  of  essays  may  talk  of  ourselves  ;  I 
take  the  liberty  to  give  an  account  of  the  remarks  which  I  find 
are  made  by  some  of  my  gentle  readers  upon  these  my  disserta- 
tions. 

I  happened  this  evening  to  fall  into  a  coffee-house  near  the 
Exchange,  where  two  persons  were  reading  my  account  of  the 
"  Table  of  Fame." 

The  one  of  these  was  commenting  as  he  read,  and  explaining 
who  was  meant  by  this  and  the  other  worthy  as  he  passed  on. 
I  observed  the  person  over  against  him  wonderfully  intent  and 
satisfied  with  his  explanation.  When  he  came  to  Julius  Caesar, 
who  is  said  to  have  refused  any  conductor  to  the  Table  ;  "  Xo, 
no,"  feaid  he,  '•  he  is  in  the  right  of  it,  he  has  money  enough  to 
be  welcome  wherever  he  comes  ; "  and  then  whispered,  "  he 
means  a  certain  colonel  of  the  Train-bands."  Upon  reading 
that  Aristotle  made  his  claim  with  some  rudeness,  but  great 
strength  of  reason  ;  "  Who  can  that  be,  so  rough  and  so  reason- 
able ?    It  must  be  some  Whig,  I  warrant  you.    There  is  nothing 


124  THE    TATLER.  [No.  83. 

but  party  in  these  public  papers."  Where  Pythagoras  is  said 
to  have  a  golden  thigh,  "  Ay,  ay,"  said  "  he,  he  has  money  enough 
in  his  breeches  ;  that  is  the  alderman  of  onr  ward,"  you  must 
know.  Whatever  he  read,  I  found  he  interpreted  from  his  own 
way  of  life  and  acquaintance.  I  am  glad  my  readers  can  con- 
strue for  themselves  these  difficult  points  ;  but,  for  the  benefit 
of  posterity,  I  design,  when  I  come  to  write  my  last  paper  of 
this  kind,  to  make  it  an  explanation  of  all  my  former.  In  that 
piece,  you  shall  have  all  I  have  commended,  with  their  proper 
names.  The  faulty  characters  must  be  left  as  they  are, 
because  we  live  in  an  age  wherein  vice  is  very  general,  and 
virtue  very  particular  ;  for  which  reason  the  latter  only  wants 
explanation. 

But  I  must  turn  my  present  discourse  to  what  is  of  yet 
greater  regard  to  me  than  the  care  of  my  writings  ;  that  is  to 
say,  the  preservation  of  a  lady's  heart.  Little  did  I  think  I 
should  ever  have  business  of  this  kind  on  my  hands  more  ;  but, 
as  little  as  any  one  who  knows  me  would  believe  it,  there  is  a 
lady  at  this  time  who  professes  love  to  me.  Her  passion  and 
good  humour  you  shall  have  in  her  own  words. 

"  Mr.  BiCKERSTAFF, 

"  T  HAD  formerly  a  very  good  opinion  of  myself  ;  but 
it  is  now  withdrawn,  and  I  have  placed  it  upon  you,  Mr. 
Bickerstafif,  for  whom  I  am  not  ashamed  to  declare  I  have  a 
very  great  passion  and  tenderness.  It  is  not  for  your  face,  for 
that  I  never  saw  ;  your  shape  and  height  I  am  equally  a 
stranger  to  ;  but  your  understanding  charms  me,  and  I  am 
lost  if  you  do  not  dissemble  a  little  love  for  me.  I  am  not 
without  hopes  ;  because  I  am  not  like  the  tawdry  gay  things 
that  are  fit  only  to  make  bone-lace.  I  am  neither  childish- 
young,  nor  beldam-old,  but,  the  world  says,  a  good  agreeable 
woman. 

"  Speak  peace  to  a  troubled  heart,  troul)lcd  only  for  you  ; 
and  in  your  next  paper  let  me  find  your  thoughts  of  me. 

"  Do  not  think  of  finding  out  who  I  am,  for,  notwithstanding 
your  interest  in  cla3mons,  they  cannot  help  you  either  to  my 


Xo.  83.]     CIIITICIS:»[S    ox    THE    "TABLE    OF    FAME."  125 

name,  or  a  sight  of  my  face  ;  therefore,  do  not  let  them  deceive 
you. 

"  I  can  bear  no  discourse,  if  you  are  not  the  snljject  ;  and 
believe  me,  I  know  more  of  love  than  you  do  of  astronomy. 

"  Pray,  say  some  civil  things  in  return  to  my  generosity,  and 
you  shall  have  my  very  best  pen  employed  to  thank  you,  and  I 
will  confirm  it.     I  am 

"  Your  admirer, 

"  Mapja." 

There  is  something  wonderfully  pleasing  in  the  favour  of 
women  ;  and  this  letter  has  put  me  in  so  good  an  humour,  that 
nothing  could  displease  me  since  I  received  it.  My  boy  breaks 
glasses  and  pipes  ;  and  instead  of  giving  him  a  knock  on  tlie 
pate,  as  my  Avay  is,  for  I  hate  scolding  at  servants,  I  only  say, 
"  Ah,  Jack  !  thou  hast  a  head,  and  so  has  a  pin,''  or  some  such 
merry  expression.  But,  alas  !  how  am  I  mortified  when  he  is 
putting  on  my  fourth  pair  of  stockings  on  these  poor  spindles 
of  mine  ?  *'  The  fair-one  understands  love  better  than  I 
astronomy  I  "  I  am  sure,  without  the  help  of  that  art,  this 
poor  meagre  trunk  of  mine  is  a  very  ill  habitation  for  loye. 
She  is  pleased  to  speak  civilly  of  my  sense,  btit  Ingenium  male 
lml)itat  is  an  invincible  difficulty  in  cases  of  this  nattire.  I  had 
always,  indeed,  from  a  passion  to  please  the  eyes  of  the  fair,  a 
great  pleasure  in  dress.  Add  to  this,  that  I  have  writ  songs 
since  I  was  sixty,  and  have  lived  with  all  the  circumspection  of 
an  old  beau,  as  I  am.  But  my  friend  Horace  has  very  well 
said,  "  Every  year  takes  something  from  us;"  and  instructed 
me  to  form  my  pursuits  and  desires  according  to  the  stage  of 
my  life  :  therefore,  I  have  no  more  to  value  myself  upon,  than 
that  I  can  converse  with  young  people  without  peevishness,  or 
wishing  myself  a  moment  younger.  For  which  reason,  when  I 
am  amongst  them,  I  rather  moderate  than  interrupt  their  diver- 
sions. But  though  I  have  this  complacency,  I  must  not  pre- 
tend to  write  to  a  lady  civil  things,  as  Maria  desires.  Time 
was,  when  I  could  have  told  her,  •'  I  had  received  a  letter  from 
her  fair  hands  ;  and,  that  if  this  paper  trembled  as  she  read  it, 


126  THE    TATLER.  [Ko.  83. 

ifc  then  l)cst  expressed  its  author,"  or  some  other  gay  conceit. 
Though  I  never  saw  her,  I  could  have  told  her,  "  that  good 
sense  and  good  humour  smiled  in  her  eyes  :  that  constancy  and 
good-nature  dwelt  in  her  heart  :  that  beauty  and  good  'breed- 
ing appeared  in  all  her  actions."  AVhen  I  was  five-and-twenty, 
upon  sight  of  one  syllable,  even  wrong  spelt,  by  a  lady  I  never 
saw,  I  could  tell  her,  "  that  her  height  was  that  which  was  fit 
for  inviting  our  approach,  and  commanding  our  respect  ;  that 
a  smile  sat  on  her  lips,  which  prefaced  her  expressions  before 
she  uttered  them,  and  her  aspect  prevented  her  speech.  All 
she  could  say,  thougli  she  had  an  infinite  deal  of  wit,  was  but 
a  repetition  of  what  was  expressed  by  her  form  ;  her  form  ! 
which  struck  her  beholders  with  ideas  more  moving  and  forcible 
than  ever  were  inspired  by  music,  painting,  or  eloquence."  At 
this  rate  I  panted  in  those  days  ;  but,  ah  !  sixty-three  !  I 
am  very  sorry  I  can  only  return  the  agreeable  Maria  a  passion 
expressed  rather  from  the  head  than  the  heart. 

"  Deae  Madam, 

''You  have  already  seen  the  best  of  me,  and  I  so 
passionately  love  you,  that  I  desire  we  may  never  meet.  If 
you  will  examine  your  heart,  you  will  find  that  you  join  the 
man  with  the  philosopher  :  and  if  you  have  that  kind  o})inion 
of  my  sense  as  you  pretend,  I  question  not  but  you  add  to  it 
complexion,  air,  and  shape  :  but,  dear  Molly,  a  man  in  his 
grand  climacteric  is  of  no  sex.  Be  a  good  girl  ;  and  conduct 
yourself  with  honour  and  virtue,  when  you  love  one  younger 
than  myself.     I  am,  with  the  greatest  tenderness, 

"  Your  innocent  lover, 

''I.  B." 


Xo.  8,3.]  A    MATllDIUXIAL    QUAUllE]..  127 

A  MATEBIONIAL  QUAEEEL. 

No.  85.       TUESDAY,  October  25,  1700.       [Steele.] 

My  brother  Tranquillus,  who  is  a  man  of  business,  came  to 
me  this  morning  into  my  stud}',  and  after  very  many  civil  ex- 
pressions in  return  for  what  good  offices  I  had  done  him,  told 
me,  "he  desired  to  carry  his  wife,  my  sister,  that  very  morning 
to  his  own  house."'  I  readily  told  him,  "  I  would  wait  upon  him," 
without  asking  why  he  was  so  impatient  to  rob  us  of  his  good 
company.  He  went  out  of  my  chamber,  and  I  thought  seemed 
to  have  a  little  heaviness  upon  him,  which  gave  me  some  dis- 
quiet. Soon  after  my  sister  came  to  me,  with  a  very  matron- 
like air,  and  most  sedate  satisfaction  in  her  looks,  which  spoke 
her  Ycry  much  at  ease  ;  but  the  traces  of  her  countenance  seemed 
to  discover  that  she  had  been  lately  in  a  passion,  and  that  air 
of  content  to  flow  from  a  certain  triumph  upon  some  advantage 
obtained.  She  no  sooner  sat  down  by  me,  but  I  perceived  she 
was  one  of  those  ladies  who  begin  to  be  managers  within  the 
time  of  their  being  brides. — "Without  letting  her  speak,  which 
I  saw  she  had  a  mighty  inclination  to  do,  I  said,  "  Here  has 
been  your  husband,  who  tells  me  he  has  a  mind  to  go  home  this 
very  morning,  and  I  have  consented  to  it." — "  It  isweh,"  said 

she,  "  for  you  must  know "    "  Xay,  Jenny,"  said  I,  "  I  beg 

your  pardon,  for  it  is  you  must  know — You  are  to  understand, 
that  now  is  the  time  to  affix  or  alienate  your  husband's  heart 
for  ever  ;  and  I  fear  you  have  been  a  little  indiscreet  in  your 
expressions  or  behaviour  towards  him,  even  here  in  my  house." 
— '' There  has,"  says  she,  ''been  some  words:  but  I  will  be 
judged  by  you  if  he  was  not  in  the  wrong  :  nay,  I  need  not 
be  judged  by  anybody,  for  he  gave  it  up  himself,  and  said  not 
a  word  when  he  saw  me  grow  passionate,  but,  '  Madam,  you 

are  perfectly  in  the  right  of  it  : '  as  you  shall  judge "  "Xay, 

madam,"  said  I,  "  I  am  judge  already,  and  tell  you,  that  you  are 
perfectly  in  the  wrong  of  it ;  for  if  it  was  a  matter  of  import- 


128  THE    TATLER.  [No.  85. 

ance,  I  know  he  has  better  sense  than  you  ;  if  a  trifle,  yon  know 
what  I  told  yon  on  your  wedding-day,  tliat  you  were  to  he 
above  little  provocations."  kShe  knows  very  well  I  can  be  sour 
upon  occasion,  therefore  gave  me  leave  to  go  on. 

"  Sister,"  said  I,  ''  I  will  not  enter  into  the  dispute  between 
3'ou,  which  I  find  his  prudence  put  an  end  to  before  it  came  to 
extremity  ;  but  charge  you  to  have  a  care  of  the  first  quarrel, 
as  you  tender  your  happiness  ;  for  then  it  is  that  the  mind  will 
reflect  harshly  upon  every  circumstance  that  has  ever  j^assed 
between  you.  If  such  an  accident  is  ever  to  happen,  which  I 
hope  never  will,  be  sure  to  keep  to  the  circumstance  before 
you  ;  make  no  allusions  to  what  is  passed,  or  conclusions 
referring  to  what  is  to  come :  do  not  shew  an  hoard  of 
matter  for  dissension  in  your  breast ;  but  if  it  is  necessary, 
lay  before  him  the  thing  as  you  understand  it,  candidly, 
without  being  ashamed  of  acknowledging  an  error,  or 
proud  of  being  in  the  right.  If  a  young  couple  be  not 
careful  in  this  point,  they  will  get  into  an  habit  of  wrangling  : 
and  when  to  displease  is  thought  of  no  consequence,  to  please 
is  always  of  as  little  moment.  There  is  a  play,  Jenny,  I  have 
formerly  been  at  when  I  was  a  student  :  we  got  into  a  dark 
corner  with  a  porringer  of  brandy,  and  threw  raisins  into  it, 
then  set  it  on  fire.  My  chamber-fellow  and  I  diverted  our- 
selves with  the  sport  of  venturing  our  fingers  for  the  raisins  ; 
and  the  wantonness  of  the  thing  was,  to  see  each  other  look 
like  a  demon,  as  we  burnt  ourselves,  and  snatched  out  the 
fruit.  This  fantastical  mirth  was  called  Snap-Dragon.  You 
may  go  into  many  a  family,  where  j'ou  see  the  man  and  wife  at 
this  sport :  every  word  at  their  table  alludes  to  some  passage 
between  themselves  ;  and  you  see  by  the  paleness  and  emotion 
in  their  countenances,  that  it  is  for  your  sake,  and  not  their 
own,  that  they  forbear  playing  out  the  whole  game  in  burning 
each  other's  fingers.  In  this  case,  the  whole  purpose  of  life  is 
inverted,  and  the  ambition  turns  upon  a  certain  contention, 
who  shall  contradict  best,  and  not  upon  an  inclination  to  excel 
in  kindness  and  good  offices.  Therefore,  dear  Jenny,  remember 
me,  and  avoid  Snap-Dragon." 


^^o.  So.]  A    ^^[ATRBIONIAL    UUARREL.  129 

"  I  thank  yon,  brother,"  said  she,  "  bnt  yon  do  not  know  how 
he  loves  me  ;  I  find  I  can  do  anytliing  with  him." — "  Jf  yon  can 
so,  why  shonld  yon  desire  to  do  anything  bnt  please  him  ?  bnt 
I  have  a  word  or  two  more  before  yon  go  ont  of  the  room  ;  for 
I  see  yon  do  not  hke  the  snbject  I  amnpon  :  let  nothing  pro- 
voke yon  to  fall  npon  an  imperfection  he  cannot  help  ;  for,  if 
he  has  a  resenting  spirit,  he  will  think  j'onr  aversion  as  immov- 
able as  the  imperfection  with  which  yon  npbraid  him.  Bnt, 
above  all,  dear  Jenny,  be  careful  of  one  thing,  and  yon  will  be 
something  more  than  woman  ;  that  is,  a  levity  yon  are  almost 
all  guilty  of,  which  is,  to  take  a  pleasure  in  yonr  power  to  give 
pain.  It  is  even  in  a  mistress  an  argument  of  meanness  of 
spirit,  bnt  in  a  wife  it  is  injustice  and  ingratitude.  When  a 
sensible  man  once  observes  this  in  a  woman,  he  must  have  a 
very  great,  or  very  little  spirit,  to  overlook  it.  A  woman 
ought,  therefore,  to  consider  very  often,  how  few-  men  there  are 
who  will  regard  a  meditated  offence  as  a  weakness  of  temper." 

I  was  going  on  in  my  confabulation,  when  Tranquillus 
entered.  She  cast  all  her  eyes  upon  him  with  much  shame 
and  confusion,  mixed  with  great  complacency  and  love,  and 
went  up  to  him.  He  took  her  in  his  arms,  and  looked  so  many 
soft  things  at  one  glance,  that  I  could  see  he  was  glad  I  had 
been  talking  to  her,  sorry  she  had  been  troubled,  and  angry  at 
himself  that  he  could  not  disguise  the  concern  he  was  in  an 
hour  before.  After  which  he  says  to  me,  with  an  air  awkward 
enough,  bnt  methought  not  unbecoming,  *'  I  have  altered  my 
mind,  brother  ;  we  will  live  upon  yon  a  day  or  two  longer."  I 
replied,  "  That  is  what  I  have  been  persuading  Jenny  to  ask  of 
you,  but  she  is  resolved  never  to  contradict  your  inclination, 
and  refused  me." 

AYe  were  going  on  in  that  way  which  one  hardly  knows  how 
to  express  ;  as  when  two  people  mean  the  same  thing  in  a  nice 
case,  but  come  at  it  by  talking  as  distantly  from  it  as  they  can  ; 
when  very  opportunely  came  in  upon  us  an  honest  inconsider- 
able fellow,  Tim  Dapper,*  a  gentleman  well  known  to  us  both. 

*  The  following  account  of  Tim  Dapper  seems  to  be  given,  as  a  true  picture 
of  the  character  and  dress  of  a  country  beau,  in  1709. 


130  THE    TATLER.  [No.  85. 

Tim  is  one  of  those  who  are  very  necessary,  by  being  very  in- 
considerable. Tim  dropped  in  at  an  incident,  when  we  knew 
not  how  to  fall  into  either  a  grave  or  a  merry  way.  My  sister 
took  this  occasion  to  make  off,  and  Dapper  gave  us  an  account  of 
all  the  company  he  had  been  in  to-day,  who  was,  and  who  was 
not  at  home,  where  he  visited.  This  Tim  is  the  head  of  a 
species  :  he  is  a  little  out  of  his  element  in  this  town  ;  but  he 
is  a  relation  of  Tranquillus,  and  his  neighbour  in  the  country, 
which  is  the  true  place  of  residence  for  this  species.  The  habit 
of  a  Dapper,  when  he  is  at  home,  is  a  light  broad  cloth,  with 
calamanco  or  red  waistcoat  and  breeches  ;  and  it  is  remarkable, 
that  their  wigs  seldom  hide  the  collar  of  their  coats.  They 
liave  always  a  peculiar  spring  in  their  arms,  a  wriggle  in  their 
bodies,  and  a  trip  in  their  gait.  All  which  motions  they  ex- 
press at  once  in  their  drinking,  bowing,  or  saluting  ladies  ;  for 
a  distant  imitation  of  a  forward  fop,  and  a  resolution  to  over- 
top him  in  his  way,  are  the  distinguishing  marks  of  a  Dapper. 
These  under-characters  of  men,  are  parts  of  the  sociable  world 
by  no  means  to  be  neglected  :  they  are  like  pegs  in  a  building ; 
tliey  make  no  figure  in  it,  but  hold  the  structure  together, 
and  are  as  absolutely  necessary  as  the  pillars  and  columns.  I 
am  sure  we  found  it  so  this  morning ;  for  Tranquillus  and  I 
should,  perhaps,  have  looked  cold  at  each  other  the  whole 
day,  but  Dapper  fell  in  with  his  brisk  way,  shook  us  both 
by  the  hand,  rallied  the  bride,  mistook  the  acceptance  he 
met  with  amongst  us  for  extraordinary  perfection  in  him- 
self, and  heartily  pleased,  and  was  pleased,  all  the  while 
he  staid.  His  company  left  us  all  in  good  humour,  and  we 
were  not  such  fools  as  to  let  it  sink,  before  we  confirmed  it  by 
great  cheerfulness  and  openness  in  our  carriage  the  whole 
evening. 


Xo.  8G.]  SIR    IIARKY    (iUICKSET.  131 


SIE  HARRY  QUICKSET. 

No.  86.      THURSDAY,  October  27,  1709. 
[Addison  and  Steele.] 


When  I  came  home  last  niglit,  mj  servant  delivered  me  the 

following  letter : 

Odohcr  24. 
'^SlR, 

"  I  have  orders  from  sii'  Harry  Quickset,  of  Staffordshire, 
baronet,  to  acquaint  you,  that  his  honour  sir  Harry  himself,  sir 
Giles  Wheelbarrow,  knight,  Thomas  Rentfree,  esquire,  justice 
of  the  quorum,  Andrew  Windmill,  esquire,  and  Mr.  Nicholas 
Doubt,  of  the  Inner  Temple,  sir  Harry's  grandson,  will  wait 
upon  you  at  the  hour  of  nine  to-morrow  morning,  being  Tues- 
day the  twenty-fifth  of  October,  upon  business  which  sir  Harry 
will  impart  to  you  by  word  of  mouth.  I  thought  it  proper  to 
acquaint  you  before-hand  so  many  persons  of  quality  came,  that 
you  might  not  be  surprised  therewith.  Which  concludes,  though 
by  many  years  absence  since  I  saw  you  at  Stafford,  unknown, 
sir, 

"  Your  most  humble  servant, 
"John  Thrifty." 

I  received  this  message  with  less  surprise  than  I  believe  Mr. 
Thrifty  imagined  ;  for  I  knew  the  good  company  too  well  to 
feel  any  palpitations  at  their  approach  :  but  I  was  in  very 
great  concern  how  I  should  adjust  the  ceremonial,  and  demean 
myself  to  all  these  great  men,  who  perhaps  had  not  seen  any- 
thing above  themselves  for  the.se  twenty  years  last  past.  I  am 
sure  that  is  the  case  of  sir  Harry.  Besides  which,  I  was  sen- 
sible that  there  was  a  great  point  in  adjusting  my  behaviour  to 
the  simple  squire,  so  as  to  give  him  satisfaction,  and  not  dis- 
oblige the  justice  of  the  quorum. 

The  hour  of  nine  was  come  this  morning,  and  I  had  no 
sooner  set  chairs,  by  the  steward's  letter,  and  fixed  my  tea- 
equipage,  but  I  heard  a  knock  at  my  door,  which  was  opened, 


132  THE    TATLER.  [Xo.  86. 

but  no  one  entered  ;  after  which  followed  a  long  silence,  which 
was  broke  at  last  by,  "  sir,  I  beg  your  pardon  ;  I  think  1  know 
better  :"  and  another  voice,  ''  nay,  good  sir  Giles — "  I  looked 
out  from  my  Avindow,  and  saw  the  good  company  all  with  their 
hats  ofP,  and  arms  spread,  offering  the  door  to  each  other. 
After  many  offers,  they  entered  with  much  solemnity,  in  the 
order  Mr.  Thrifty  was  so  kind  as  to  name  them  to  me.  But 
they  are  now  got  to  my  chamber-door,  and  I  saw  my  old  friend 
sir  Harry  enter.  I  met  him  with  all  the  respect  due  to  so 
reverend  a  vegetable  ;  for,  you  are  to  know,  that  is  my  sense  of 
a  person  who  remains  idle  in  the  same  place  for  half  a  century. 
I  got  him  with  great  success  into  his  chair  by  the  fire,  without 
throwing  down  any  of  my  cups.  The  knight-bachelor  told  me, 
*'  he  had  a  great  respect  for  my  whole  family,  and  would,  with 
my  leave,  place  himself  next  to  sir  Harry,  at  whose  right  hand 
he  had  sat  at  every  quarter  sessions  these  thirty  years,  unless 
he  was  sick."  The  steward  in  the  rear  whispered  the  young 
Templar,  "  That  is  true,  to  my  knowledge."  I  had  the  misfor- 
tune, as  they  stood  cheek  by  jole,  to  desire  the  squire  to  sit 
down  before  the  justice  of  the  quorum,  to  the  no  small  satis- 
faction of  the  former,  and  resentment  of  the  latter.  But  I  saw 
my  error  too  late,  and  got  them  as  soon  as  I  could  into  their 
seats.  ''  Well,"  said  I,  "  gentlemen,  after  I  have  told  you  how 
glad  I  am  of  this  great  honour,  I  am  to  desire  you  to  drink  a 
dish  of  tea."  They  answered  one  and  all,  "  that  they  never 
drank  tea  in  a  morning." — "  Not  in  a  morning  !  "  said  I,  staring 
round  me.  Upon  which  the  pert  jackanapes,  Nic  Doubt,  tipped 
me  the  wink,  and  put  out  his  tongue  at  his  grandfather.  Here 
followed  a  profound  silence,  when  the  steward  in  his  boots  and 
whip  proposed,  "  that  we  should  adjourn  to  some  public-house, 
where  everybody  might  call  for  what  they  pleased,  and  enter 
upon  the  business."  We  all  stood  up  in  an  instant,  and  sir 
Harry  filed  off  from  the  left,  very  discreetly,  countermarching 
behind  the  chairs  towards  the  door.  After  him,  sir  Giles  in 
the  same  manner.  The  simple  squire  made  a  sudden  start  to 
follow  ;  but  the  justice  of  the  quorum  whipped  between  upon 
the  stand  of  the  stairs.     A  maid,  going  up  with  coals,  made  us 


No.  86.]  Sill    HARRY    QUICKSET.  133 

halt,  and  put  ns  into  such  confusion,  that  we  stood  all  in  aheap, 
"without  any  visible  possibility  of  recovering  our  order  ;  for  the 
young  jackanapes  seemed  to  make  a  jest  of  this  matter,  and  had 
so  contrived,  by  pressing  amongst  us,  under  pretence  of  making 
^vay,  that  his  grandfather  \vas  got  into  the  middle,  and  he  knew 
nobody  was  of  quality  to  stir  a  step,  until  sir  Harry  moved 
first.  We  were  fixed  in  this  perplexity  for  some  time,  until 
we  heard  a  very  loud  noise  in  the  street  ;  and  sir  Harry  asking 
what  it  was,  I,  to  make  them  move,  said,  "  it  was  fire."  Upon 
this,  all  ran  down  as  fast  as  they  could,  without  order  or 
ceremony,  until  we  got  into  the  street,  where  we  drew  up  in 
very  good  order,  and  filed  ofi:'  down  Sheer-lane  ;  the  imperti- 
nent Templar  driving  us  before  him,  as  in  a  string,  and  point- 
ing to  his  acquaintance  who  passed  by. 

I  must  confess,  I  love  to  use  people  according  to  their  own 
sense  of  good  breeding,  and  therefore  whipped  in  between  the 
justice  and  the  simple  squire.     He  could  not  properly  take  this 
ill ;  but  I  overheard  him  wliisper  the  steward, ''  that  he  thought 
it  hard,  that  a  common  conjurer  should  take  place  of  him, 
though  an  elder  squire."     In   this  order  we  marched  down 
Sheer-lane,   at  the  upper  end  of  which  I  lodge.     When  we 
came  to  Temple-bar,  sir  Harry  and  sir  Giles  got  over  ;  but  a 
run  of  the  coaches  kept  the  rest  of  us  on  this  side  of  the  street ; 
however,  we  all  at  last  landed,  and  drew  up  in  very  good  order 
before  Ben  Tooke's*  shop,  who  favoured  our  rallying  with  great 
humanity  ;  from  whence  we  proceeded  again,  until  we  came  to 
Dick's  coftee-house,  where  I  designed  to  carry  them.     Here  we 
were  at  our  old  difficulty,  and  took  up  the  street  upon  the  same 
ceremony.     We  proceeded  through  the  entry,  and  were  so  ne- 
cessarily kept  in  order  by  the  situation,  that  we  were  now  got 
into  the  coffee-house  itself,  where,  as  soon  as  we  arrived,  we 
repeated  our  civilities  to  each  other  ;  after  which,  we  marched 
up  to  ihe  high  table,  which  has  an  ascent  to  it  inclosed  in  the 
middle  of  the  room.     The  whole  house  was  alarmed  at  this 
entry,  made  up  of  persons  of  so  much  state  aud  rusticity.    Sir 

*  Tlic-n  a  celebrated  bookseller,  in  Fleet  Street. 


134  THE    TATLEE.  [No.  89. 

Hany  called  for  a  mug  of  ale,  aud  Dyer's  Letter.*  The  boy 
brought  the  ale  in  an  instant  ;  but  said,  "  they  did  not  take  in 
the  Letter." — "  Xo ! "  says  sir  Harry,  "then  take  back  your  mug ; 
we  are  like  indeed  to  have  good  liquor  at  this  house  !  "  Here 
the  Templar  tipped  me  a  second  wink,  and,  if  I  had  not  looked 
very  grave  upon  him,  I  found  he  was  disposed  to  be  very 
familiar  with  me.  In  short,  I  observed  after  a  long  pause,  that 
the  gentleman  did  not  care  to  enter  upon  business  until  after 
their  morning  draught,  for  which  reason  I  called  for  a  bottle 
of  mum  ;  and,  finding  that  had  no  effect  upon  them,  I  ordered 
a  second,  and  a  third,  after  which  sir  Harry  reached  over  to 
me,  and  told  me  in  a  low  voice,  '^  that  tlie  place  was  too  public 
for  business  ;  but  he  would  call  upon  me  again  to-morrow 
morning  at  my  own  lodgings,  and  bring  some  more  friends 
with  him." 


A  PxVSTOEAL  LETTEE. 

Xo.  89.    THURSDAY,  November  3, 17O0.    [Steele.] 

Rura  niilii  placeant,  riguique  in  vallibiis  amnes_ 

!Flumina  amem  sylvasque  inglorins 

YiRG.  Geurg.  ii.  485. 

My  iiext  desire  i.s,  void  of  care  and  strife, 
To  lead  a  soft,  secure,  inglorious  life  : 
A  country  cottage  near  a  crystal  flood, 
A  winding  valley,  and  a  lofty  wood. 

I  HAVE  received  this  short  epistle  from  an  unknown  hand. 

''  Sir, 

"  I  have  no  more  to  trouble  you  with,  than  to  desire 
you  would  in  your  next  help  me  to  some  answer  to  the  inclosed 

*  Dyer,  the  puLli.slier  of  a  written  newspaper,  under  the  title  of  ''Dj-cr's 
Letter,"  is  humorously  said  hy  Addison  to  he  "justly  looked  upon  by  all  the 
fox-hunters  in  the  nation,  as  the  greatest  statesman  our  country  has  produced." 


Xo.  8i).]  A    rASTORAL    LETTER.  135 

concerning  yourself.  In  the  mean  time  I  congratulate  you 
upon  the  increase  of  your  fame,  winch  you  sec  lias  extended 
itself  beyond  the  bills  of  mortality." 

"  Sir, 

'^  That  the  country  is  barren  of  news  has  been  the 
excuse,  time  out  of  mind,  for  dropping  a  correspondence  with 
our  friends  in  London  ;  as  if  it  were  impossible  out  of  a  coffee- 
house to  write  an  agreeable  letter.  I  am  too  ingenuous  to 
endeavour  at  the  covering  of  my  negligence  with  so  common 
an  excuse.  Doubtless,  amongst  friends,  bred,  as  we  have  been, 
to  the  knowledge  of  books  as  well  as  men,  a  letter  dated  from 
a  garden,  a  grotto,  a  fountain,  a  wood,  a  meadow,  or  the  banks 
of  a  river,  may  be  more  entertaining  than  one  from  Tom's, 
Will's,  White's,  or  Saint  James's.  I  promise,  therefore,  to  be 
frequent  for  the  future  in  my  rural  dates  to  you.  But  for  fear 
you  should,  from  what  I  have  said,  be  induced  to  believe  I  shun 
the  commerce  of  men,  I  must  inform  you,  that  there  is  a  fresh 
topic  of  discourse  lately  arisen  amongst  the  ingenious  in  our 
l^art  of  the  world,  and  is  become  the  more  fashionable  for  the 
ladies  giving  into  it.  This  we  owe  to  Isaac  BickerstafP,  who 
is  very  much  censured  by  some,  and  as  much  justified  by  others. 
Some  criticise  his  style,  his  humour,  and  his  matter  ;  others 
admire  the  whole  man.  Some  pretend,  from  the  informations 
of  their  friends  in  town,  to  decypher  the  author ;  and  others 
confess  they  are  lost  in  their  guesses.  For  my  part,  I  must 
own  myself  a  professed  admirer  of  the  paper,  and  desire  you  to 
send  me  a  complete  set,  together  with  your  thoughts  of  the 
squire  and  his  lucubrations." 

There  is  no  pleasure  like  that  of  receiving  praise  from  the 
praise-worthy  ;  and  I  own  it  a  very  solid  happiness,  that  these 
my  lucubrations  are  approved  by  a  person  of  so  fine  a  taste  as 
the  author  of  this  letter,  who  is  capable  of  enjoying  the  world 
in  the  simplicity  of  its  natural  beauties.  This  pastoral  letter, 
if  I  may  so  call  it,  must  be  written  by  a  man  who  carries  his 
entertainment  wherever  he  goes,  and  is  undoubtedly  one  of 
those  happy  men  who  appear  far  otherwise  to  the  vulgar.     I 


136  THE    TATLEH.  [Xo.  89. 

dare  say,  he  is  not  envied  by  the  vicious,  the  vain,  the  frolic, 
and  the  loud  ;  but  is  continually  blessed  with  that  strong  and 
serious  delight,  which  flows  from  a  well-taught  and  liberal 
mind.  With  great  respect  to  country  sports,  I  may  say,  1his 
gentleman  could  pass  his  time  agreeably,  if  there  were  not  a 
hare  or  a  fox  in  his  county.  That  calm  and  elegant  satisfaction 
which  the  vulgar  call  melancholy  is  the  true  and  proper  delight 
of  men  of  knowledge  and  virtue.  What  we  take  for  diversion, 
"which  is  a  kind  of  forgetting  ourselves,  is  but  a  mean  way  of 
entertainment,  in  comparison  of  that  which  is  considering, 
knowing,  and  enjoying  ourselves.  The  pleasures  of  ordinary 
people  are  in  their  passions  ;  but  the  seat  of  this  delight  is  in 
the  reason  and  understanding.  Such  a  frame  of  mind  raises 
that  sweet  enthusiasm,  which  warms  the  imagination  at  the 
sight  of  every  work  of  nature,  and  turns  all  round  you  into  a 
picture  and  landscape.  I  shall  be  ever  proud  of  advices  from 
this  gentleman  ;  for  I  profess  writing  news  from  the  learned, 
as  well  as  the  busy  world. 

As  for  my  labours,  which  he  is  pleased  to  inquire  after,  if 
they  can  but  wear  one  impertinence  out  of  human  life,  destroy 
a  single  vice,  or  give  a  morning's  cheerfulness  to  an  honest 
mind  ;  in  short,  if  the  world  can  be  but  one  virtue  the  better, 
or  in  any  degree  less  vicious,  or  receive  from  them  the  smallest 
addition  to  their  innocent  diversions  ;  I  shall  not  think  my 
pains,  or  indeed  my  Hie,  to  have  been  spent  in  yain. 

Thus  far  as  to  my  studies.  It  will  be  expected  I  should  in 
the  next  place  give  some  account  of  my  life.  I  shall  therefore, 
for  the  satisfaction  of  the  present  age,  and  the  benefit  of 
posterity,  present  the  world  with  the  following  abridgement 
of  it. 

It  is  remarkable,  that  I  was  bred  by  hand,  and  eat  nothing 
but  milk  until  I  was  a  twelve-month  old  ;  from  which  time,  to 
the  eighth  year  of  my  age,  I  was  observed  to  delight  in 
pudding  and  potatoes  ;  and  indeed  I  retain  a  benevolence  for 
that  sort  of  food  to  this  day.  I  do  not  remember  that  I  dis- 
tinguished myself  in  any  thing  at  those  years,  but  by  my  great 
skill  at  taw,  for  which  I  was  so  bai'barously  used,  that  it  has 


No.  90.]  LOYE.  Ul 

eyer  since  given  me  an  aversion  to  gaming.  In  my  twelfth 
year,  I  suffered  very  much  for  two  or  three  false  concords.  At 
fifteen  I  was  sent  to  the  university,  and  staid  there  for  some 
time  ;  but  a  drum  passing  by,  being  a  lover  of  music,  I  inlisted 
myself  for  a  soldier.  As  years  came  on,  I  began  to  examine 
things,  and  grew  discontented  at  the  times.  This  made  me 
quit  the  sword,  and  take  to  the  study  of  the  occult  sciences,  in 
which  I  ^Yas  so  wrapped  up,  that  Oliver  Cromwell  had  been 
buried,  and  taken  up  again,  five  years  before  I  heard  he  was 
dead.  This  gave  me  first  the  reputation  of  a  conjurer,  which 
has  been  of  great  disadvantage  to  me  ever  since,  and  kept  me 
out  of  all  public  employments.  The  greater  part  of  my  later 
years  has  been  divided  between  Dick's  coffee-house,  the  Trum- 
pet in  Sheer-lane,  and  my  own  lodgings. 


LOVE. 

No.  90.        SATURDAY,  Xovemeer  5,  1709. 
[Steele  and  Addisox.] 

Amoto  qureraraus  seria  ludo. 

HoR.  1  Sat.  i.  27. 

Let  us  no\y 


With  gi-aver  air  our  serious  theme  pursue, 
And  yet  preserve  our  moral  full  in  vie^v. 

The  passion  of  love  happened  to  be  the  subject  of  discourse 
between  two  or  three  of  us  at  the  table  of  the  poets  this 
evening ;  and,  among  other  observations,  it  was  remarked, 
"  that  the  same  sentiment  on  this  passion  had  run  through  all 
languages  and  nations."  Memmius,  who  has  a  very  good 
taste,  fell  into  a  little  sort  of  dissertation  on  this  occasion. 
"  It  is,"  said  he, ''  remarkable,  that  no  passion  has  been  treated, 
by  aU  who  have  touched  upon  it,  witli  the  same  bent  of  design 
but  this.  The  poets,  the  moralists,  the  painters,  in  aU  their 
descriptions,  allegories,  and  pictures,  have  represented  it  as  a 

L  2 


138  THE   TATLEE  t^"o.  90. 

soft  torment,  a  bitter  sweet,  a  pleasing  pain,  or  an  agreeable 
distress  ;  and  have  only  expressed  the  same  thonglit  in  a 
different  manner." 

The  joining  of  pleasure  and  pain  togethei'  in  such  devices, 
seems  to  me  the  only  pointed  thought  I  ever  read  -which  is 
natural  ;  and  it  must  have  proceeded  from  its  being  the 
miivei'sal  sense  and  experience  of  mankind,  that  they  have  all 
spoken  of  it  in  the  same  manner.  I  have,  in  my  own  reading, 
remarked  an  hundred  and  three  epigrams,  fifty  odes,  and  ninety- 
one  sentences,  tending  to  this  sole  purpose. 

It  is  certain,  there  is  no  other  passion  which  does  produce 
such  contrary  effects  in  so  great  a  degree.  But  this  may  be 
said  for  love,  that  if  you  strike  it  out  of  the  soul,  life  would  be 
insipid,  and  our  being  but  half- animated.  Human  nature 
would  sink  into  deadness  and  letharg}^  if  not  quickened  with 
some  active  principle  ;  and  as  for  all  others,  whether  ambition, 
envy,  or  avarice,  which  are  apt  to  possess  the  mind  in  the 
absence  of  this  passion,  it  must  be  allowed  that  they  have  greater 
pains,  without  the  compensation  of  such  exquisite  pleasures  as 
those  we  find  in  love.  The  great  skill  is  to  heighten  the 
satisfactions,  and  deaden  the  sorrows  of  it  ;  which  has  been 
the  end  of  many  of  my  labours,  and  shall  continue  to  be  so,  for 
the  service  of  the  world  in  general,  and  in  particular  of  the 
fair  sex,  who  are  always  the  best  or  the  worst  part  of  it.  It  is 
a  pity  that  a  passion,  which  has  in  it  a  capacity  of  making  life 
happy,  should  not  be  cultivated  to  the  utmost  advantage. 
Reason,  prudence,  and  good-nature,  rightly  applied,  can 
thoroughly  accomplish  this  great  end,  provided  they  have 
always  a  real  and  constant  love  to  work  upon.  But  this  sub- 
ject I  shall  treat  more  at  large  in  the  history  of  my  married 
sister,  and  in  the  mean  time  shall  conclude  my  reflection  on  the 
pains  and  pleasures  which  attend  this  passion,  with  one  of  the 
finest  allegories  which  I  think  I  have  ever  read.  It  is  invented 
by  the  divine  Plato,  and,  to  show  the  opinion  he  himself  had 
of  it,  ascribed  by  him  to  his  admired  Socrates,  whom  he  repre- 
sents as  discoursing  with  his  friends,  and  giving  the  history  of 
Love  in  the  following  manner. 


No.  90.]  LOYE.  139 

"At  the  birth  of  Beautj,"  says  he,  "  there  was  a  great  feast 
made,  and  many  guests  invited.  Among  the  rest,  was  the  god 
Plenty,  who  was  the  son  of  the  goddess  Prudence,  and  inherited 
many  of  his  mother's  virtues.  After  a  full  entertainment,  he 
retired  into  the  garden  of  Jupiter,  which  was  hung  with  a 
great  variety  of  ambrosial  fruits,  and  seems  to  have  been  a  very 
proper  retreat  for  such  a  guest.  In  the  mean  time,  an  unhappy 
female  called  Poverty,  having  heard  of  this  great  feast,  repaired 
to  it,  in  hopes  of  finding  relief.  The  first  place  she  lights  upon 
was  Jupiter's  garden,  which  generally  stands  open  to  people  of 
all  conditions.  Poverty  enters,  and  by  chance  finds  the  god 
Plenty  asleep  in  it.  She  was  immediately  fired  with  his 
charms,  laid  herself  down  by  his  side,  and  managed  matters  so 
well,  that  she  conceived  a  child  by  him.  The  world  was  very 
much  in  suspense  upon  the  occasion,  and  could  not  imagine  to 
themselves  what  would  be  the  nature  of  an  infant  that  was  to 
have  its  original  from  two  such  parents.  At  the  last,  the  child 
appears  ;  and  who  should  it  be  but  Love.  This  infant  grew 
up,  and  proved  in  all  his  behaviour,  what  he  really  was,  a  com- 
pound of  opposite  beings.  As  he  is  the  son  of  Plenty,  who 
was  the  offspring  of  Prudence,  he  is  subtle,  intriguing,  full  of 
stratagems  and  devices  :  as  the  son  of  Poverty,  he  is  fawning, 
begging,  serenading,  delighting  to  lie  at  a  threshold,  or  beneath 
a  window.  By  the  father,  he  is  audacious,  full  of  hopes, 
conscious  of  merit,  and  therefore  quick  of  resentment.  By  the 
mother,  he  is  doubtful,  timorous,  mean-spirited,  fearful  of 
offending,  and  abject  in  submissions.  In  the  same  hour  you 
may  see  him  transported  with  raptures,  talking  of  immortal 
pleasures,  and  appearing  satisfied  as  a  god  ;  and  immediately 
after,  as  the  mortal  mother  prevails  in  his  composition,  you 
behold  him  pining,  languishing,  despairing,  dying." 

I  have  been  always  wonderfully  delighted  with  fables, 
allegories,  and  the  hke  inventions,  which  the  politest  and  the 
best  instructors  of  mankind  have  always  made  use  of.  They 
take  off  from  the  severity  of  instruction,  and  inforce  it  at  the 
same  time  that  they  conceal  it.  The  supposing  Love  to  be 
conceived  immediately  after  the  birth  of  Beauty  ;  the  parentage 


140  THE    TATLER.  [No.  91. 

of  Plenty  ;  and  the  inconsistency  of  this  passion  with  its  self 
so  naturally  derived  to  it,  arc  great  master-strokes  in  this  fable  ; 
and  if  they  fell  into  good  hands,  might  furnish  out  a  more 
pleasing  canto  than  any  in  Spenser. 


A  TOP  TOAST'S  VISIT. 

No.  91.        TUESDAY,  November  8,  1709.    [Steele.] 

I  WAS  very  much  surprised  this  evening  with  a  visit  from 
one  of  the  top  toasts  of  the  town,  who  came  privately  in  a 
chair,  and  bolted  into  my  room,  while  I  was  reading  a  chapter 
of  Agrippa  upon  the  occult  sciences;  but,  as  she  entered  with 
all  the  air  and  bloom  that  nature  ever  bestowed  on  woman,  I 
threw  down  the  conjuror,  and  met  the  charmer.  I  had  no 
sooner  placed  her  at  my  right  hand  by  the  fire,  but  she  opened 
to  me  the  reason  of  her  visit.  "  Mr.  BickerstafF,"  said  the  fine 
creature,  ^'  I  have  been  your  correspondent  some  time,  though 
I  never  saw  you  before  ;  I  have  writ  by  the  name  of  Maria. 
You  have  told  me,  you  were  too  far  gone  in  life  to  think  ot 
love.  Therefore,  I  am  answered  as  to  the  passion  I  spoke  of  ; 
and,"  continued  she,  smiling,  "  I  will  not  stay  until  you  grow 
young  again,  as  you  men  never  fail  to  do  in  your  dotage  ;  but 
am  come  to  consult  you  about  disposing  of  myself  to  another. 
My  person  you  see  ;  my  fortune  is  very  considerable  ;  but  I 
am  at  present  under  much  perplexity  how  to  act  in  a  great 
conjuncture.  I  have  two  lovers,  Crassus  and  Lorio  :  Crassus 
is  prodigiously  rich,  but  has  no  one  distiuguishing  quality  ; 
though  at  the  same  time  he  is  not  remarkable  on  the  defective 
side.  Lorio  has  travelled,  is  well  bred,  pleasant  in  discourse, 
discreet  in  his  conduct,  agreeable  in  his  person  ;  and  with  all 
this,  he  has  a  competency  of  fortune  without  superfluity. 
When  I  consider  Lorio,  my  mind  is  filled  with  an  idea  of  the 
great  satisfactions  of  a  pleasant  conversation.    When  I  think 


Xo.  91.]  A    TOP    TOAST'S    VISIT.  Ml 

of  Crassus,  my  equipage,  numerous  Bcrvants,  gay  liveries,  and 
various  dresses,  are  opposed  to  the  charms  of  his  rival.  In  a 
word,  when  I  cast  my  eyes  upon  Lorio,  I  forget  and  despise 
fortune  ;  when  I  behold  Crassus,  I  think  only  of  pleasing  my 
vanity,  and  enjoying  an  uncontrolled  expence  in  all  the 
pleasures  of  life,  except  love."     She  paused  here. 

"  Madam,"  said  I,  "  I  am  confident  you  have  not  stated 
your  case  with  sincerity,  and  there  is  some  secret  pang  which 
you  have  concealed  from  me  :  for  I  see  by  your  aspect  the 
generosity  of  your  mind  ;  and  that  open  ingenuous  air  lets  me 
know,  that  you  have  too  great  a  sense  of  the  generous  passion 
of  love,  to  prefer  the  ostentation  of  life  in  the  arms  of  Crassus, 
to  the  entertainments  and  conveniences  of  it  in  the  company 
of  your  beloved  Lorio  ;  for  so  he  is  indeed,  madam  ;  you  speak 
his  name  with  a  different  accent  from  the  rest  of  your  discourse. 
The  idea  his  image  raises  in  you  gives  new  life  to  your  features, 
and  newgrace  to  your  speech.  Nay,  blush  not,  madam  -,  there  is  no 
dishonour  in  loving  a  man  of  merit ;  I  assure  you,  I  am  grieved 
at  this  dallying  with  yourself,  when  you  put  another  in  com- 
petition with  him,  for  no  other  reason  but  superior  wealth." — 
''  To  tell  you,  then,"  said  she,  ^'  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  there 
is  Clotilda  lies  by,  and  plants  herself  in  the  way  of  Crassus, 
and  I  am  confident  will  snap  him  if  I  refuse  him.  I  cannot 
bear  to  think  that  she  will  shine  above  me.  When  our  coaches 
meet,  to  see  her  chariot  hung  behind  with  four  footmen,  and 
mine  with  but  two  :  hers,  powdered,  gay,  and  saucy,  kept  only 
for  show  ;  mine,  a  couple  of  careful  rogues  that  are  good  for 
something  :  I  own,  I  cannot  bear  that  Clotilda  should  be  in 
all  the  pride  and  wantonness  of  wealth,  and  I  only  in  the  ease 
and  affluence  of  it." 

Here  I  interrupted  :  "  Well,  madam,  now  I  see  your  whole 
affliction  ;  you  could  be  happy,  but  that  you  fear  another 
would  be  happier.  Or  rather,  you  could  be  solidly  happy,  but 
that  another  is  to  be  happy  in  appearance.  This  is  an  evil 
which  you  must  get  over,  or  never  know  happiness.  We  will 
put  the  case,  madam,  that  you  married  Crassus,  and  she  Lorio." 
She  answered,  "  Speak  not  of  it.     I  could  tear  her  eves  out  at 


142  THE    TATLER.  [No.  91. 

the  mention  of  it." — "  Well  then,  I  pronounce  Lorio  to  be  the 
man ;  but  I  must  tell  you,  that  what  we  call  settling  in  the 
world  is,  in  a  kind,  leaving  it ;  and  you  must  at  once  resolve 
to  keep  your  thoughts  of  happiness  within  the  reach  of  your 

fortune,  and  not  measure  it  by  comparison  with  others 

But,  indeed,  madam,  wdien  I  behold  that  beauteous  form  of 
yours,  and  consider  the  generality  of  your  sex,  as  to  their  dis- 
posal of  themselves  in  marriage,  or  their  parents  doing  it  for 
them  without  their  own  approbation,  I  cannot  but  look  upon 
all  such  matches  as  the  most  impudent  prostitutions.  Do  but 
observe,  when  you  are  at  a  play,  the  famiUar  ivencJics  that  sit 
laughing  among  the  men.  These  appear  detestable  to  you  in 
the  boxes.  Each  of  them  would  give  up  her  person  for  a 
guinea  ;  and  some  of  you  would  take  the  worst  there  for  life 
for  twenty  thousand.  If  so,  how  do  you  differ  but  in  price  ? 
As  to  the  circumstance  of  marriage,  I  take  that  to  be  hardly 
an  alteration  of  the  case  ;  for  wedlock  is  but  a  more  solemn 
prostitution,  where  there  is  not  an  union  of  minds.  You 
would  hardly  believe  it,  but  there  have  been  designs  even 
upon  me. 

"A  neighbour  in  this  very  lane,  who  knows  I  have,  by 
leading  a  very  wary  life,  laid  up  a  little  money,  had  a  great 
mind  to  marry  me  to  his  daughter.  I  was  frequently 
invited  to  their  table  :  the  girl  was  always  very  pleasant  and 
agreeable.  After  dinner,  miss  Molly  would  be  sure  to  fill  my 
pipe  for  me,  and  put  more  sugar  than  ordinary  into  my  coffee  ; 
for  she  was  sure  I  was  good-natured.  If  I  chanced  to  hem, 
the  mother  would  applaud  my  vigour ;  and  has  often  said  on 
that  occasion,  '  I  wonder,  Mr.  Bickerstaff,  you  do  not  marry, 
I  am  sure  you  would  have  children.'  Things  went  so  far,  that 
my  mistress  presented  me  with  a  wrought  night-cap  and  a 
laced  land  of  her  own  working.  I  began  to  think  of  it  in 
earnest ;  but  one  day,  having  an  occasion  to  ride  to  Islington, 
as  two  or  three  people  were  lifting  me  upon  my  pad,  I  spied 
her  at  a  convenient  distance  laughing  at  her  lover,  with  a 
parcel  of  romps  of  her  acquaintance.  One  of  them,  wdio  I 
suppose  had  the  same  design  upon  me,  told  me  she  said,  "  Do 


Ko.  92.]  FALSE    PHAISE.  143 

you  see  how  briskly  my  old  gentleman  mounts  ?  "  This  made 
me  cut  olT  my  amour,  and  to  reflect  with  myself,  that  no 
married  life  could  be  so  unhappy,  as  where  the  wife  proposes 
no  other  advantaQ-e  from  her  husband,  than  that  of  makiuo- 
herself  fine,  and  keeping*  her  out  of  the  dirt." 

^ly  fair  client  burst  out  a  laughing  at  the  account  I  gave 
her  of  my  escape,  and  went  away  seemingly  convinced  of  the 
reasonableness  of  my  discourse  to  her. 


FALSE  PEAISE. 

Xo.  92.       THURSDAY,  November  10,  1709.       [Steele.] 

Falsus  honor  juvat,  et  mendax  infamia  terret 

Queni  nisi  mendosum  et  mendacem  ? 

HoR.  1  Ep.  xvi. 

False  praise  can  i^lease,  and  calumny  affright, 
Xone  but  the  Yicious  and  tlie  hypocrite. 

I  e:xoay  no  manner  of  speaking  so  offensive  as  that  of  giving 
praise,  and  closing  it  with  an  exception  ;  which  proceeds  (where 
men  do  not  do  it  to  introduce  malice,  and  make  calumny  more 
effectual)  from  the  common  error  of  considering  man  as  a  per- 
fect creature.  But,  if  we  rightly  examine  things,  we  shall  find 
that  there  is  a  sort  of  ceconomy  in  Providence,  that  one  shall 
excel  where  another  is  defective,  in  order  to  make  men  more 
useful  to  each  other,  and  mix  them  in  society.  This  man  hav- 
ing this  talent,  and  that  man  another,  is  as  necessary  in 
conversation,  as  one  professing  one  trade,  and  another  another,  is 
beneficial  in  commerce.  The  happiest  climate  does  not  pro- 
duce all  things  ;  and  it  was  so  ordered,  that  one  part  of  the 
earth  should  want  the  product  of  another,  for  uniting  mankind 
in  a  general  correspondence  and  good  understanding.  It  is, 
therefore,  want  of  good  sense  as  well  as  good  nature,  to  say 
Simplicius  has  a  better  judgment,  but  not  so  much  wit  as 
Latins  ;  for  that  these  have  not  each  other's  capacities  is  no 
more  a  diminution  to  either,  than  if  you  should  say,  Simplicius 


144  THE    TATLER.  [No.  92. 

is  not  Latius  ;  or  Latius  not  Simplicins.  The  heathen  world 
had  so  little  notion  that  perfection  was  to  be  expected  amongst 
men,  that  among  them  any  one  quality  or  endowment  in  an 
heroic  degree  made  a  God.  Hercules  had  strength  ;  but  it  was 
never  objected  to  him  that  he  wanted  wit.  Apollo  presided 
over  wit,  and  it  was  never  asked  whether  he  had  strength. 
We  hear  no  exceptions  against  the  beauty  of  Minerva,  or  the 
wisdom  of  Venus.  These  wise  heathens  were  glad  to  immor- 
talize any  one  serviceable  gift,  and  overlook  all  imperfections 
in  the  person  who  had  it.  But  with  us  it  is  far  otherwise,  for 
w^e  reject  many  eminent  virtues,  if  they  are  accompanied  with 
one  apparent  weakness. 

The  reflecting  after  this  manner  made  mc  account  for  the 
strange  delight  men  take  in  reading  lampoons  and  scandal,  with 
which  the  age  abounds,  and  of  which  I  receive  frequent  com- 
plaints. Upon  mature  consideration,  I  find  it  is  principally  for 
this  reason,  that  the  worst  of  mankind,the  libellers,  receive  so 
much  encouragement  in  the  world.  The  low  race  of  men  take  a 
secret  pleasure  in  finding  an  eminent  character  levelled  to  their 
condition  by  a  report  of  its  defects  ;  and  keep  themselves  in 
countenance,  though  they  are  excelled  in  a  thousand  virtues,  if 
they  believe  they  have  in  common  with  a  great  person  any  one 
fault.  The  libeller  falls  in  with  this  humour,  and  gratifies  this 
baseness  of  temper,  which  is  naturally  an  enemy  to  extra- 
ordinary merit.  It  is  from  this,  that  libel  and  satire  are  pro- 
miscuously joined  together  in  the  notions  of  the  vulgar,  though 
the  satirist  and  libeller  differ  as  much  as  the  magistrate  and  the 
murderer.  In  the  consideration  of  human  life,  the  satirist  never 
falls  upon  persons  who  arc  not  glaringly  faulty,  and  the  libeller 
on  none  but  who  are  conspicuously  commendable.  Were  I  to 
expose  any  vice  in  a  good  or  great  man,  it  should  certainly  be  by 
correcting  it  in  some  one  where  that  crime  was  the  most  distin- 
guishing part  of  the  character  ;  as  pages  arc  chastised  for  the 
admonition  of  princes.*    When  it  is  performed  otherwise,  the 

*  This  alludes  to  a  practice  long  prevalent  in  England  of  whipping  the  royal 
^children  by  proxy.     The  curious  may  find  an  account  of  this  custom  in  Sir 
John  Hawkins's  *'  History  of  Music,"  vol.  iii.  p.  252. 


No.  92.]  FALSE    PRAISE.  145 

vicious  are  kept  in  credit,  by  placing  men  of  mei-it  in  the  same 
accusation.  But  all  the  pasquils,  lampoons,  and  libels  we  meet 
with  now-a-days,  are  a  sort  of  playing  with  the  four-and-twenty 
letters,  and  throwing  them  into  names  and  characters,  Avithout 
sense,  truth,  or  wit.  In  this  case,  I  am  in  great  perplexity  to 
know  whom  they  mean,  and  should  be  in  distress  for  those 
they  abuse,  if  I  did  not  see  their  judgment  and  ingenuity  in 
those  they  commend.  This  is  the  true  way  of  examining  a 
libel  ;  and  when  men  consider,  that  no  one  man  living  thinks 
the  better  of  their  heroes  and  patrons  for  the  panegyric  given 
them,  none  can  think  themselves  lessened  by  their  invective. 
The  hero  or  patron  in  a  libel  is  but  a  scavenger  to  carry  off  the 
dirt,  and  by  that  very  employment  is  the  filthiest  creature  in 
the  street.  Dedications  and  panegyrics  are  frequently  ridicu- 
lous, let  them  be  addressed  where  they  will  ;  but  at  the  front, 
or  in  the  body  of  a  libel,  to  commend  a  man,  is  saying  to  the 
persons  applauded,  "  My  lord,  or  sir,  I  have  pulled  down  all 
men  that  the  rest  of  the  world  think  great  and  honourable,  and 
here  is  a  clear  stage  ;  you  may,  as  yon  please,  be  valiant  or 
wise  ;  yon  m^ay  choose  to  be  on  the  military  or  civil  list  ;  for 
there  is  no  one  brave  who  commands,  or  just  who  has  power. 
You  may  rule  the  world  now  it  is  empty,  which  exploded  you 
wdien  it  w^as  full :  I  have  knocked  out  the  brains  of  all  whom 
mankind  thought  good  for  anything  ;  and  I  doubt  not  but  yon 
will  reward  that  invention,  which  found  out  the  only  expedient 
to  make  your  lordship,  or  your  worship,  of  any  consideration." 
Had  I  the  honour  to  be  in  a  libel,  and  had  escaped  the  ap- 
probation of  the  author,  I  should  look  upon  it  exactly  in  this 
manner.  But  though  it  is  a  thing  thus  perfectly  indifferent 
who  is  exalted  or  debased  in  such  performances,  yet  it  is  not 
so  with  relation  to  the  authors  of  them  ;  therefore,  I  shall,  for 
the  good  of  my  country,  hereafter  take  upon  me  to  punish 
these  wretches.  What  is  already  passed  may  die  away  accord- 
ing to  its  nature,  and  continue  in  its  present  oblivion  ;  but,  for 
the  future,  I  shall  take  notice  of  such  enemies  to  honour  and 
virtue,  and  preserve  them  to  immortal  infamy.  Their  names 
shall  give  fresh  offence  many  ages  hence,  and  be  detested  a 


146  THE    TATLER.  [No.  92. 

thousand  years  after  the  commission  of  their  crime.  It  shall 
not  avail,  that  these  children  of  infamy  publish  their  works 
under  feigned  names,  or  under  none  at  all  ;  for  I  am  so  per- 
fectly well  acquainted  with  the  styles  of  all  my  contemporaries, 
that  I  shall  not  fail  of  doing  them  justice,  with  their  proper 
names,  and  at  their  full  length.  Let  these  miscreants,  there- 
fore, enjoy  their  present  act  of  oblivion,  and  take  care  how  they 
offend  hereafter. 

But,  to  avert  our  eyes  from  such  objects,  it  is  methinks  but 
requisite  to  settle  our  opinion  in  the  case  of  praise  and  blame. 
I  believe,  the  only  true  way  to  cure  that  sensibility  of  reproach, 
which  is  a  common  weakness  with  the  most  virtuous  men,  is  to 
fix  their  regard  firmly  upon  only  what  is  strictly  true,  in  rela- 
tion to  their  advantage,  as  well  as  diminution.  For  if  I  am 
pleased  with  commendation  which  T  do  not  deserve,  I  shall 
from  the  same  temper  be  concerned  at  scandal  I  do  not  deserve. 
But  he  that  can  think  of  false  applause  with  as  much  con- 
tempt as  false  detraction,  will  certainly  be  prepared  for  all 
adventures,  and  will  become  all  occasions.  Undeserved  idvaise 
can 2)lease  only  those  ivlio  want  merit,  and  undeserved  reproacli 
frigliten  onJij  tliose  iclio  icant  sincerity.  I  have  thought  of  this 
with  so  much  attention,  that  I  fancy  there  can  be  no  other 
method  in  nature  found  for  the  cure  of  that  delicacy  which 
gives  good  men  pain  under  calumny,  but  placing  satisfaction 
no  where  but  in  a  just  sense  of  their  own  integrity,  without 
regard  to  the  opinion  of  others.  If  we  have  not  such  a  foun- 
dation as  this,  there  is  no  help  against  scandal,  but  being  in 
obscurity,  which  to  noble  minds  is  not  being  at  all.  The 
truth  of  it  is,  this  love  of  praise  dwells  most  in  great  and 
heroic  spirits  ;  and  those  who  best  deserve  it  have  generally 
the  most  exquisite  relish  of  it.  Methinks  I  see  the  renowned 
Alexander,  after  a  painful  and  laborious  march,  amidst  the 
heats  of  a  parched  soil  and  a  burning  climate,  sitting  over  the 
head  of  a  fountain,  and,  after  a  draught  of  water,  pronounce 
that  memorable  saying,  "  Oh  !  Athenians  !  How  much  do  I 
suffer,  that  you  may  speak  well  of  me  ?  "  The  xithenians  were 
at  that  time  the  learned  of  the  world,  and  their  libels  against 


jS'o.  95.]  A    MONITOR.  117 

Alexander  were  written,  as  lie  was  a  irofessed  enemy  of  their 
state.  But  liow  monstrous  would  such  invectives  have  ap- 
peared in  Macedonians  ! 

As  love  of  reputation  is  a  darling  passion  in  great  men,  so 
the  defence  of  them  in  this  particular  is  the  business  of  every 
man  of  honour  and  honesty.  "^Ve  should  run  on  such  an  occa- 
sion, as  if  a  public  building  was  on  fire,  to  their  relief;  and  all 
who  spi'ead  or  publish  such  detestable  pieces  as  traduce  their 
merit  should  be  used  like  incendiaries.  It  is  the  common  cause 
of  our  country  to  support  the  reputation  of  those  who  preserve 
it  against  invaders ;  and  every  man  is  attacked  in  the  person 
of  that  neiu'hbour  who  deserves  well  of  him. 


A  MONITOR. 

No.  05.     THURSDAY,  Noye3iber  17,  1700.     [Steele.] 

Intei'ea  dulces  pendent  circum  oscula  nati, 

Casta  pudicitiam  servat  domus 

YiRG.  Georg.  ii.  523. 

His  cares  are  eas'd  witli  intervals  of  bliss  ; 
His  little  children,  climbing  for  a  kiss, 
"VVelconie  their  father's  late  return  at  night : 
His  faithful  bed  is  crown'd  with  chaste  delight. 

There  are  several  persons  who  have  many  pleasures  and  en- 
tertainments in  their  possession,  which  they  do  not  enjoy.  It 
is,  therefore,  a  kind  and  good  ofiice  to  acquaint  them  with  their 
own  happiness,  and  turn  their  attention  to  such  instances  of  their 
good  fortune  as  they  are  apt  to  overlook.  Persons  in  the  mar- 
ried state  often  want  such  a  monitor  ;  and  pine  away  their 
days,  by  looking  upon  the  same  condition  in  anguish  and 
murmur,  which  carries  with  it  in  the  opinion  of  others  a  com- 
plication of  all  the  pleasures  of  life,  and  a  retreat  from  its  in- 
quietudes. 

I  am  led  into  this  thought  by  a  visit  I  made  an  old  friend, 


H8  THE    TATLEU.  [Xo.  95. 

who   was  formerly  my  schoolfelloAv.     ITc  came  to  town  last 
week  with  his  family  for  the  winter,  and  yesterday  morning 
sent  me  word  his  wife  expected  me  to  dinner.     I  am  as  it  were 
at  home  at  that  house,  and  every  member  of  it  knows  me  for 
their  well-wisher.     I  cannot  indeed  express  the  pleasure  it  is, 
to  be  met  by  the  children  with  so  much  joy  as  I  am  when  I  go 
thither.     The  boys  and  girls  strive  who  shall  come  first,  when 
they  think  it  is  I  that  am  knocking  at  that  door  ;  and  that  child 
which  loses  the  race  to  me  runs  back  as^ain  to  tell  the  father  it 
is  Mr.  Bickerstaff.     This  day  I  was  led  in  by  a  pretty  girl,  that 
we  all  thought  must  have  forgot  me  ;  for  the  family  has  been 
out  of  town  these  two  years.     Her  knowing  me  again  was  a 
mighty  subject  with  us,  and  took  up  our  discourse  at  the  first 
entrance.    After  which,  they  began  to  rally  me  upon  a  thou- 
sand little  stories  they  heard  in  the  country,  about  my  marri- 
age to  one  of  my  neighbour's  daughters.     Upon  which  the 
gentleman,  my  friend  said,  "Xay,  if  Mr.  Bickerstaff  marries  a 
child  of  any  of  his  old  companions,  I  hope  mine  shall  have  the 
preference  ;  there  is  Mrs.  Mary  is  now  sixteen,  and  would  make 
him  as  fine  a  widow  as  the  best  of  them.     But  I  know  him  too 
well ;  he  is  so  enamoured  with  the  very  memory  of  those  who 
flourished  in  our  youth,  that  he  will  not  so  much  as  look  upon 
the  modern  beauties.     I  remember,  old  gentleman,  how  often 
you  went  home  in  a  day  to  refresh  your  countenance  and  dress, 
when  Teraminta  reigned  in  your  heart.     As  we  came  up  in  the 
coach,  I  repeated  to  my  wife  some  of  your  verses  on  her." 
With  such  reflections  on  little  passages  which  happened  long 
ago,  we  passed  our  time,  during  a  cheerful  and  elegant  meal. 
After  dinner,  his  lady  left  the  room,  as  did  also  the  children. 
As  soon  as  we  were  alone,  he  took  me  by  the  hand  ;  ''  Well,  my 
good  friend,"  says  he,  "  I  am  heartily  glad  to  see  thee  ;  I  was 
afraid  you  would  never  have  seen  all  the  company  that  dined 
with  you  to-day  again.     Do  not  you  think  the  good  woman  of 
the  house  a  little  altered,  since  you  followed  her  from  the  play- 
house, to  find  out  who  she  was,  for  me  ?  "     I  perceived  a  tear 
fall  down  his  cheek  as  he  spoke,  which  moved  me  not  a  little. 
But,  to  turn  the  discourse,  I  said,  "  She  is  not  indeed  quite  that 


Xo.  95.]  A   MONITOR.  119 

creature  she  was,  when  she  returned  me  the  letter  I  carried 
from  you  ;  and  told  me,  '  she  hoped,  as  I  was  a  gentleman,  I 
would  be  employed  no  more  to  trouble  her,  who  had  never  of- 
fended me  ;  but  would  be  so  much  the  gentleman's  friend,  as 
to  dissuade  him  from  a  pursuit,  which  he  could  never  succeed 
in.'  You  may  remember,  I  thought  her  in  earnest ;  and  you 
were  forced  to  employ  your  cousin  AVill,  who  made  his  sister 
get  acquainted  with  her,  for  yon.  You  cannot  expect  her  to 
be  for  ever  fifteen." — "  Fifteen  ! "  replied  my  o-ood  friend  : 
*'  Ah  you  little  understand,  you  that  have  lived  a  bachelor, 
how  great,  how  exquisite  a  pleasure  there  is,  in  being  really 
beloved !  It  is  impossible,  that  the  most  beauteous  face  in 
nature  should  raise  in  me  such  pleasing  ideas,  as  when  I  look 
upon  that  excellent  woman.  That  fading  in  her  countenance 
is  chiefly  caused  by  her  watching  with  me,  in  my  fever.  This 
was  followed  by  a  fit  of  sickness,  which  had  like  to  have  car- 
ried her  off  last  winter.  I  tell  you  sincerely,  I  have  so  many 
obligations  to  her,  that  I  cannot,  with  any  sort  of  moderation, 
think  of  her  present  state  of  health.  But  as  to  what  you  say 
of  fifteen,  she  gives  me  every  day  pleasures  beyond  what  I  ever 
knew  in  the  possession  of  her  beauty,  when  I  was  in  the  vigour 
of  youth.  Every  moment  of  her  life  brings  me  fresh  instances 
of  her  complacency  to  my  inclinations,  and  her  prudence  in 
regard  to  my  fortune.  Her  face  is  to  me  much  more  beautiful 
than  when  I  first  saw  it  ;  there  is  no  decay  in  any  feature, 
which  I  cannot  trace,  from  the  very  instant  it  was  occasioned 
by  some  anxious  concern  for  my  welfare  and  interests.  Thus, 
at  the  same  time,  methinks,  the  love  I  conceived  towards  her 
for  what  she  was  is  heightened  by  my  gratitude  for  what  she 
is.  The  love  of  a  wife  is  as  much  above  the  idle  passion  com- 
monly called  by  that  name,  as  the  loud  laughter  of  buffoons  is 
inferior  to  the  elegant  mirth  of  gentlemen.  Oh  !  she  is  an 
inestimable  jewel.  In  her  examination  of  her  household  affairs, 
she  shews  a  certain  fearfulncss  to  find  a  fault,  which  makes  her 
servants  obey  her  like  children  ;  and  the  meanest  we  have  has 
an  ingenuous  shame  for  an  offence,  not  always  to  be  seen  in 
childi-en  in  other  families.     I  speak  freely  to  you,  my  old  friend ; 


150  THE    TATLEH.  [No.  93, 

ever  since  her  sickness,  things  that  gave  me  the  quickest  joy 
before  turn  now  to  a  certain  anxiety.  As  the  children  play  in 
the  next  room,  I  know  the  poor  things  by  their  steps,  and  am 
considering  what  they  must  do,  should  they  lose  their  mother 
in  their  tender  years.  The  pleasure  I  used  to  take  in  telling 
my  boy  stories  of  battles,  and  asking  my  girl  questions  about 
the  disposal  of  her  baby,  and  the  gossiping  of  it,  is  turned  into 
inward  reflection  and  melancholy." 

He  would  have  gone  on  in  this  tender  way,  when  the  good 
lady  entered,  and  with  an  inexpressible  sweetness  in  her  coun- 
tenance told  us,  ^'  she  had  been  searching  her  closet  for  some- 
thing very  good,  to  treat  such  an  old  friend  as  I  was."  Her 
husband's  eyes  sparkled  with  pleasure  at  the  cheerfulness  of  her 
countenance  ;  and  I  saw  all  his  fears  vanish  in  an  instant.  The 
lady  observing  something  in  our  looks  which  shewed  we  had 
been  more  serious  than  ordinary,  and  seeing  her  husband 
receive  her  with  great  concern  under  a  forced  cheerfulness,  im- 
mediately guessed  at  what  we  had  been  talking  of ;  and  apply- 
ing herself  to  me,  said,  with  a  smile,  "  Mr.  Bickerstaff,  do  not 
believe  a  word  of  what  he  tells  you  ;  I  shall  still  live  to  have 
you  for  my  second,  as  I  have  often  promised  you,  unless  he 
takes  more  care  of  himself  than  he  has  done  since  his  coming  to 
town.  You  must  know,  he  tells  me  that  he  finds  London  is  a 
much  more  healthy  place  than  the  country  ;  for  he  sees  several 
of  his  old  acquaintance  and  schoolfellows  are  here  yoimg  fellows 
U'illifairfuJl-Ijofiomedjjernc'igs.  I  could  scarce  keep  him  this 
morning  from  going  out  oiJen  ireastcdy  J\Iy  friend,  who  is 
always  extremely  delighted  with  her  agreeable  humour,  made 
her  sit  down  with  us.  She  did  it  with  that  easiness  which  is 
peculiar  to  women  of  sense  ;  and,  to  keep  up  the  good  humour 
she  had  brought  in  with  her,  turned  her  raillery  upon  me. 
"  Mr.  BickerstafP,  you  remember  you  followed  me  one  night 
from  the  play-house  ;  suppose  you  should  carry  me  thither  to- 
morrow night,  and  lead  me  into  the  front-box."  This  put  us 
into  a  long  field  of  discourse  about  the  beauties,  who  were 
mothers  to  the  present,  and  shined  in  the  boxes  twenty  years 
ago.     I  told  her,  "  I  was  glad  she  had  transferred  so  many  of 


No.  95.]  A    MONITOR.  151 

her  charms,  and  I  did  not  question  but  her  eldest  daughter  was 
within  half  a  year  of  being  a  Toast." 

We  were  pleasing  ourselves  with  this  fantastical  preferment 
of  the  young  lady,  when  on  a  sudden  we  were  alarmed  with  the 
noise  of  a  drum,  and  immediately  entered  my  little  godson  to 
give  me  a  point  of  war.  His  mother,  between  laughing  and 
chiding,  would  have  put  him  out  of  the  room  ;  but  I  would  not 
part  with  him  so,  I  found  upon  conversation  with  him,  though 
he  was  a  little  noisy  in  his  mirth,  that  the  child  had  excellent 
parts,  and  was  a  great  master  of  all  the  learning  on  the  other 
side  eight  years  old.  I  perceived  him  a  very  great  historian  in 
--Esop's  Fables  ;  but  he  fi-ankly  declared  to  me  his  mind,  "  that 
he  did  not  delight  in  that  learning,  because  he  did  not  believe 
they  were  true  ;  "  for  which  reason  I  found  he  had  very  much 
iurmd  his  studies,  for  about  a  twelve-month  past,  into  the  lives 
and  adventures  of  don  Bellianis  of  Greece,  Guy  of  "Warwick,  the 
Seven  Champions,  and  other  historians  of  that  age.  I  could 
not  but  observe  the  satisfaction  the  father  took  in  the  forwardness 
of  his  son  ;  and  that  these  diversions  might  turn  to  some  profit, 
I  found  the  boy  had  made  remarks,  which  might  be  of  service 
to  him  during  the  course  of  his  whole  life.  He  would  tell  you 
the  mismanagements  of  John  Hickathrift,  find  fault  with  the 
passionate  temper  in  Bevis  of  Southampton,  and  loved  Saint 
George  for  being  the  champion  of  England  ;  and  by  this  means 
had  his  thoughts  insensibly  moulded  into  the  notions  of  discre- 
tion, virtue,  and  honour.  I  was  extolling  his  accomplishments, 
when  the  mother  told  me,  "  that  the  little  girl  who  led  me  in 
this  morning  was  in  her  way  a  better  scholar  than  he.  Betty, 
says  she,  "  deals  chiefly  in  fairies  and  sprights  ;  and  sometimes 
in  a  wnnter-night  will  terrify  the  maids  with  her  accounts,  until 
they  are  afraid  to  go  up  to  bed." 

I  sat  with  them  until  it  was  very  late,  sometimes  in  merry, 
sometimes  in  serious  discourse,  with  this  particular  pleasure, 
which  gives  the  only  true  relish  to  all  conversation,  a  sense 
that  every  one  of  us  liked  each  other.  I  went  home,  consider- 
ing the  different  conditions  of  a  married  life  and  that  of  a 
bachelor  ;  and  I  must  confess  it  struck  me  with  a  secret  con- 


152  THE    TATLER.  [No.  96. 

cern,  to  reflect,  that  whenever  I  go  off  I  shall  leave  no  traces 
behind  me. 


DEAD  MEN. 

No.  96.     SATURDAY,  November  19,  1709.     [Addison.] 

Is  mihi  demum  vivere  et  frui  anima  videtur,  qui  aliquo  negotio  intentus, 
prjeclari  facinoris  aut  artis  bonse  famam  querit.  — Sall.  Bell.  Cat. 

In  my  opinion,  he  only  may  be  truly  said  to  live,  and  enjoy  his  being,  who 
is  engaged  in  some  laudable  pursuit,  and  acquires  a  name  by  some  illustrious 
action,  or  useful  art. 

It  has  cost  me  very  much  care  and  thought  to  marshal  and 
fix  the  people  under  their  proper  denominations,  and  to  range 
them  according  to  their  respective  characters.  These  my 
endeavours  have  been  received  with  unexpected  success  in  one 
kind,  but  neglected  in  another  :  for  though  I  have  many 
readers,  I  have  but  few  converts.  This  must  certainly  proceed 
from  a  false  opinion,  that  what  I  write  is  designed  rather  to 
amuse  and  entertain,  than  convince  and  instruct.  I  entered 
upon  my  Essays  with  a  declaration  that  I  should  consider  man- 
kind in  quite  another  manner  than  they  had  hitherto  been 
represented  to  the  ordinary  world  ;  and  asserted,  that  none  but 
an  useful  life  should  be,  with  me,  any  life  at  all.  But,  lest  this 
doctrine  should  have  made  this  small  progress  tow^ards  the  con- 
viction of  mankind,  because  it  may  have  appeared  to  the  un- 
learned light  and  whimsical,  I  must  take  leave  to  unfold  the 
wisdom  and  antiquity  of  my  first  proposition  in  these  my 
Essays,  to  wit,  that  "  every  worthless  man  is  a  dead  man." 
This  notion  is  as  old  as  Pythagoras,  in  whose  school  it  was  a 
point  of  discipline,  that  if  among  the  'Ak8sikol,  or  probationers, 
there  were  any  who  grew  weary  of  studying  to  be  useful,  and 
returned  to  an  idle  life,  they  were  to  regard  them  as  dead  ; 
and,  upon  their  departing,   to  perform    their  obsequies,  and 


No.  96.]  DEAD    MEN.  153 

raise  them  tombs,  with  inscriptions  to  warn  others  of  the  Uke 
mortality,  and  quicken  them  to  resolutions  of  refining  their 
souls  above  that  wretched  state.  It  is  upon  a  like  supposition, 
that  young  ladies,  at  this  very  time,  in  Roman  Catholic 
countries,  are  received  into  some  nunneries  with  their  coffins, 
and  with  the  pomp  of  a  formal  funeral,  to  signify,  that  hence- 
forth they  are  to  be  of  no  farther  use,  and  consequently  dead. 
Nor  was  Pythagoras  himself  the  first  author  of  this  symbol, 
with  whom,  and  with  the  Hebrews,  it  was  generally  received. 
Much  more  might  be  offered  in  illustration  of  this  doctrine 
from  sacred  authority,  which  I  recommend  to  my  reader's  own 
reflection  ;  who  will  easily  recollect,  from  places  which  I  do 
not  think  fit  to  quote  here,  the  forcible  manner  of  applying  the 
word  dead  and  living,  to  men  as  they  are  good  or  bad. 

I  have,  therefore,  composed  the  following  scheme  of  existence 
for  the  benefit  both  of  the  living  and  the  dead  ;  though  chiefly 
for  the  latter,  whom  I  must  desire  to  read  it  with  all  possible 
attention.  In  the  number  of  the  dead  I  comprehend  all  per- 
sons, of  what  title  or  dignity  soever,  who  bestow  most  of  their 
time  in  eating  and  drinking,  to  support  that  imaginary  exist- 
ence of  theirs,  which  they  call  life  ;  or  in  dressing  and  adorn- 
ing those  shadows  and  apparitions,  which  are  looked  upon  by 
the  vulgar  as  real  men  and  women.  In  short,  whoever  resides 
in  the  world  without  having  any  business  in  it,  and  passes  away 
an  age  without  ever  thinking  on  the  errand  for  which  he  was 
sent  hither,  is  to  me  a  dead  man  to  all  intents  and  purposes  ; 
and  I  desire  that  he  may  be  so  reputed.  The  living  are  only 
those  that  are  some  way  or  other  laudably  employed  in  the 
improvement  of  their  own  minds,  or  for  the  advantage 
of  others  ;  and  even  amongst  these,  I  shall  only  reckon  into 
their  lives  that  part  of  their  time  which  has  been  spent  in  the 
manner  above  mentioned.  By  these  means,  I-'  am  afraid,  we 
shall  find  the  longest  lives  not  to  consist  of  many  months,  and 
the  greatest  part  of  the  earth  to  be  quite  unpeopled.  Accord- 
ing to  this  system  we  may  observe,  that  some  men  are  born  at 
twenty  years  of  age,  some  at  thirty,  some  at  threescore,  and 
some  not  above  an  hour  before  they  die  :  nay,  we  may  observe 

M  2 


154  THE    TATLER.  [No.  97. 

multitudes  that  die  without  ever  being  born,  as  well  as  many- 
dead  persons  that  fill  up  the  bulk  of  mankind,  and  make  a 
better  figure  in  the  eyes  of  the  ignorant,  than  those  who  are 
alive,  and  in  their  proper  and  full  state  of  health.  However, 
since  there  may  be  many  good  subjects,  that  pay  their  taxes, 
and  live  peaceably  in  their  habitations,  who  are  not  yet  born, 
or  have  departed  this  life  several  years  since,  my  design  is,  to 
encourage  both  to  join  themselves  as  soon  as  possible  to  the 
number  of  the  living. 


AN  ALLEGOEY. 

No.  97.    TUESDAY,  November  22,  1709.     [Addison.] 

Illud  maxime  rarurn  genus  est  eorum,  qui  aut  excelleute  ingenii  magni- 
tudine,  aut  preeclara  eruditione  atque  doctrina,  aut  utr^que  re  ornati,  spatium 
deliberandi  habuerunt,  quem  potissim^m  vitce  cursum  sequi  vellent. — 
TULL.  Offic. 

There  are  very  few  persons  of  extraordinary  genius,  or  eminent  for  learning 
and  other  noble  endowments,  who  have  had  sufficient  time  to  consider  what 
particular  course  of  life  they  ought  to  pursue. 

Having  swept  away  prodigious  multitudes  in  my  last 
paper,  and  brought  a  great  destruction  upon  my  own  species,  I 
must  endeavour  in  this  to  raise  fresh  recruits,  and,  if  possible, 
to  supply  the  places  of  the  unborn  and  the  deceased.  It  is 
said  of  Xerxes,  that  when  he  stood  upon  a  hill,  and  saw  the 
whole  country  round  him  covered  with  his  army,  he  burst  out 
into  tears,  to  think  that  not  one  of  that  multitude  would  be 
alive  an  hundred  years  after.  For  my  part,  when  I  take  a 
survey  of  this  populous  city,  I  can  scarce  forbear  weeping,  to 
see  how  few  of  its  inhabitants  are  now  living.  It  was  with 
this  thought  that  I  drew  up  my  last  bill  of  mortality,  and 
endeavoured  to  set  out  in  it  the  great  number  of  persons  who 
have  perished  by  a  distemper,  commonly  known  by  the  name 
of  idleness,  which  has  long  raged  in  tlie  world,  and  destroys 


No.  97.]  AN    ALLEGORY.  155 

more  in  every  great  town  than  the  plague  has  done  at  Dant- 
zick.*  To  repair  the  mischief  it  has  done,  and  stock  the  world 
with  a  better  race  of  mortals,  I  have  more  hopes  of  bringing  to 
life  those  that  are  young,  than  of  reviving  those  that  are  old. 
For  which  reason,  I  shall  here  set  down  that  noble  allegory 
which  was  written  by  an  old  author  called  Prodicus,  but  re- 
commended and  embellished  by  Socrates.  It  is  the  description 
of  Virtue  and  Pleasure,  making  their  court  to  Hercules  under 
the  appearance  of  two  beautiful  women. 

When  Hercules,  says  the  divine  moralist,  was  in  that  part  of 
his  youth,  in  which  it  was  natural  for  him  to  consider  what 
course  of  life  he  ought  to  pursue,  he  one  day  retired  into  a 
desert,  where  the  silence  and  solitude  of  the  place  very  much 
favoured  his  meditations.  As  he  was  musing  on  his  present 
condition,  and  very  much  perplexed  in  himself  on  the  state  of 
life  he  should  choose,  he  saw  two  women  of  a  larger  stature 
than  ordinary  approaching  towards  him.  One  of  them  had  a 
very  noble  air,  and  graceful  deportment  ;  her  beauty  was 
natural  and  easy,  her  person  clean  and  unspotted,  her  eyes  cast 
towards  the  ground  with  an  agreeable  reserve,  her  motion  and 
behaviour  full  of  modesty,  and  her  raiment  as  white  as  snow. 
The  other  had  a  great  deal  of  health  and  floridness  in  her 
countenance,  which  she  had  helped  with  an  artificial  white  and 
red ;  and  endeavoured  to  appear  more  graceful  than  ordinary 
in  her  mien,  by  a  mixture  of  affectation  in  all  her  gestures. 
She  had  a  wonderful  confidence  and  assurance  in  her  looks,  and 
all  the  variety  of  colours  in  her  dress  that  she  thought  were 
most  proper  to  shew  her  complexion  to  -an  advantage.  She 
cast  her  eyes  upon  herself,  then  turned  them  on  those  that 
were  present,  to  see  how  they  liked  her,  and  often  looked  on 
the  figure  she  made  in  her  own  shadow.  Upon  her  nearer 
approach  to  Hercules,  she  stepped  before  the  other  lady,  who 
came  forward  with  a  regular  composed  carriage,  and  running 
up  to  him,  accosted  him  after  the  following  manner : 

"  My  dear  Hercules,"  says  she,  "  I  find  you  are  very  much 

*  In  1709  Dantzic  was  visited  by  the  plague,  which  swept  off  above  40,000 
of  its  inhabitants. 


166  THE    TATLER.  [No.  97. 

divided  in  your  own  thoughts,  upon  the  way  of  life  that  you 
ought  to  choose.  Be  my  friend,  and  follow  me  ;  I  will  lead 
you  into  the  possession  of  pleasure,  and  out  of  the  reach  of 
pain,  and  remove  you  from  all  the  noise  and  disquietude  of 
business.  The  affairs  of  either  war  or  peace  shall  have  no 
power  to  disturb  you.  "Your  whole  employment  shall  be,  to 
make  your  life  easy,  and  to  entertain  every  sense  with  its 
proper  gratification.  Sumptuous  tables,  beds  of  roses,  clouds 
of  perfumes,  concerts  of  music,  crowds  of  beauties,  are  all  in 
readiness  to  receive  you.  Come  along  with  me  into  this  region 
of  delights,  this  world  of  pleasure,  and  bid  farewell  for  ever  to 
care,  to  pain,  to  business." 

Hercules,  hearing  the  lady  talk  after  this  manner,  desired  to 
know  her  name  ;  to  which  she  ansAvered,  "  My  friends,  and 
those  who  are  well  acquainted  with  me,  call  me  Happiness ; 
but  my  enemies,  and  those  who  would  injure  my  reputation, 
have  given  me  the  name  of  Pleasure." 

By  this  time  the  other  lady  was  come  up,  who  addressed  her- 
self to  the  young  hero  in  a  very  different  manner. 

"Hercules,"  says  she,  "I  offer  myself  to  you,  because  I 
know  you  are  descended  from  the  Gods,  and  give  proofs  of  that 
descent  by  your  love  to  virtue,  and  application  to  the  studies 
proper  for  your  age.  This  makes  me  hope  you  will  gain  both 
for  yourself  and  me  an  immortal  reputation.  But,  before  I 
invite  you  into  my  society  and  friendship,  I  will  be  open  and 
sincere  with  you,  and  must  lay  down  this  as  an  established 
truth,  That  there  is  nothing  truly  valualle,  which  can  le  pnr- 
chased  ivithout pains  a7idlal)our.  The  Gods  have  set  a  price 
upon  every  real  and  noble  pleasure.  If  you  would  gain  the 
favour  of  the  Deity,  you  must  be  at  the  pains  of  worshipping 
him  ;  if  the  friendship  of  good  men,  you  must  study  to  oblige 
them  ;  if  you  would  be  honoured  by  your  country,  you  must 
take  care  to  serve  it.  In  short,  if  you  would  be  eminent  in 
war  or  peace,  you  must  become  master  of  all  the  qualifications 
that  can  make  you  so.  These  are  the  only  terms  and  con- 
ditions upon  which  I  can  propose  happiness."  The  Goddess 
of  Pleasure  here  broke  in  upon  her  discourse.     "  Yow  see," 


No.  97.]  AN    ALLEGORY.  157 

said  she,  "  Hercules,  by  her  own  confession,  the  way  to  her 
pleasure  is  long  and  difficult,  whereas  that  which  I  propose  is 
short  and  easy." — "Alas!"  said  the  other  lady,  whose  visas^e 
glowed  with  a  passion  made  up  of  scorn  and  pity,  '-  what  are 
the  pleasures  you  propose  ?  To  cat  before  you  are  hungry, 
drink  before  you  are  a-thirst,  sleep  before  you  are  a-tired,  to 
gratify  appetites  before  they  are  raised,  and  raise  such  appetites 
as  nature  never  planted.  You  never  heard  the  most  delicious 
music,  which  is  the  praise  of  one's  self ;  nor  saw  the  most 
beautiful  object,  which  is  the  work  of  one's  ow^n  hands.  Your 
votaries  pass  away  their  youth  in  a  dream  of  mistaken 
pleasures,  while  they  are  hoarding  up  anguish,  torment,  and 
remorse  for  old  age. 

"  As  for  me,  I  am  the  friend  of  the  Gods  and  of  good  men, 
an  agreeable  companion  to  the  artizan,  an  household  guardian 
to  the  fathers  of  families,  a  patron  and  protector  of  servants, 
an  associate  in  all  true  and  generous  friendships.  The  banquets 
of  my  votaries  are  never  costly,  but  always  delicious  ;  for  none 
eat  or  drink  at  them  who  are  not  invited  by  hunger  and  thirst. 
Their  slumbers  are  sound,  and  their  wakings  cheerful.  My  young 
men  have  the  pleasure  of  hearing  themselves  praised  by  those 
who  are  in  years  ;  and  those  who  are  in  years,  of  being  honoured 
by  those  who  are  young.  In  a  w^ord,  my  followers  are  favoured 
by  the  Gods,  beloved  by  their  acquaintance,  esteemed  by 
their  country,  and,  after  the  close  of  their  labours,  honoured  by 
posterity." 

We  know  by  the  life  of  this  memorable  hero,  to  which  of 
these  two  ladies  he  gave  up  his  heart  ;  and  I  believe,  every 
one  who  reads  this  will  do  him  the  justice  to  approve  his 
choice. 

I  very  much  admire  the  speeches  of  these  ladies,  as  contain- 
ing in  them  the  chief  arguments  for  a  life  of  virtue,  or  a  life  of 
pleasure,  that  could  enter  into  the  thoughts  of  an  heathen  ; 
but  am  particularly  pleased  with  the  different  figures  he  gives 
the  two  Goddesses.  Our  modern  authors  have  represented 
Pleasure  or  Yice  with  an  alluring  face,  but  ending  in  snakes 
and  monsters.     Here  she  appears  in  all  the  charms  of  beauty, 


loS  THE    TATLER.  [Xo.  100. 

thongli  they  are  all  false  and  borrowed  ;  and  by  that  means 
composes  a  vision  entirely  natural  and  pleasing. 

I  have  translated  this  allegory  for  the  benefit  of  the  youth 
of  Great  Britain  ;  and  particularly  of  those  who  are  still  in  the 
deplorable  state  of  non-existence,  and  whom  I  most  earnestly 
intreat  to  come  into  the  world.  Let  my  erabrios  shew  the 
least  inclination  to  any  single  virtue,  and  I  shall  allow  it  to  be 
a  struggling  towards  birth.  I  do  not  expect  of  them  that, 
like  the  hero  in  the  foregoing  story,  they  should  go  about  as 
soon  as  they  are  born,  with  a  club  in  their  hands,  and  a  lion's 
skin  on  their  shoulders,  to  root  out  monsters,  and  destroy 
tyrants  ;  but,  as  the  finest  author  of  all  antiquity  has  said  upon 
this  very  occasion,  though  a  man  has  not  the  abilities  to  dis- 
tinguish himself  in  the  most  shining  parts  of  a  great  character, 
he  has  certainly  the  capacity  of  being  just,  faithful,  modest, 
and  temperate. 


A  VISION. 

No.  100.     TUESDAY,  November  29,  1709.     [Addison.] 

Jam  redit  et  Virgo,  redeunt  Saturnia  regna. — Virg.  Eel.  iv.  ver.  6. 
Returning  justice  brings  a  golden  age. 

I  WAS  last  week  taking  a  solitary  walk  in  the  garden  of 
Lincoln's-Inn  (a  favour  that  is  indulged  me  by  several  of  the 
benchers,  who  are  my  intimate  friends,  and  grown  old  with 
me  in  this  neighbourhood)  when,  according  to  the  nature  of 
men  in  years,  who  have  made  but  little  progress  in  the  advance- 
ment of  their  fortune  or  their  fame,  I  was  repining  at  the 
sudden  rise  of  many  persons  who  are  my  juniors,  and  indeed 
at  the  unequal  distribution  of  wealth,  honour,  and  all  other 
blessings  of  life,     I  was  lost  in  this  thought,  when  the  night 


Xo.  100.]  A    VISION.  159 

came  upon  me,  and  drew  my  mind  into  a  far  more  as^reeable 
contemplation.  The  heaven  above  me  appeared  in  all  its 
glories,  and  presented  me  with  such  an  hemisphere  of  stars,  as 
made  the  most  agreeable  prospect  imaginable  to  one  who  de- 
lights in  the  study  of  nature.  It  happened  to  be  a  freezing 
night,  which  had  purified  the  whole  body  of  air  into  such  a 
bright  transparent  aether,  as  made  every  constellation  visible  ; 
and  at  the  same  time  gave  such  a  particular  glowing  to  the 
stars,  that  I  thought  it  the  richest  sky  I  had  ever  seen.  I 
could  not  behold  a  scene  so  wonderfully  adorned  and  lighted 
up,  if  I  may  be  allowed  that  expression,  without  suitable  medi- 
tations on  the  author  of  such  illustrious  and  amazing  objects  : 
for  on  these  occasions,  philosophy  suggests  motives  to  religion, 
and  religion  adds  pleasure  to  philosophy. 

As  soon  as  I  had  recovered  my  usual  temper  and  serenity  ot 
soul,  I  retired  to  my  lodgings,  with  the  satisfaction  of  having 
passed  away  a  few  hours  in  the  proper  employments  of  a 
reasonable  creature  ;  and  promising  myself  that  my  slumbers 
would  be  sweet,  I  no  sooner  fell  into  them,  but  I  dreamed  a 
dream,  or  saw  a  vision,  for  I  know  not  which  to  call  it,  that 
seemed  to  rise  out  of  my  evening-meditation,  and  had  some- 
thing in  it  so  solemn  and  serious,  that  I  cannot  forbear  com- 
municating it  ;  though,  I  must  confess,  the  wildness  of  imagi- 
nation, which  in  a  dream  is  always  loose  and  irregular,  dis- 
covers itself  too  much  in  several  parts  of  it. 

Methought  I  saw  the  same  azure  sky  diversified  with  the 
same  glorious  luminaries  which  had  entertained  me  a  little 
before  I  fell  asleep.  I  was  looking  very  attentively  on  that 
sign  in  the  heavens  which  is  called  by  the  name  of  the  Balance,"^ 
when  on  a  sudden  there  appeared  in  it  an  extraordinary  light, 
as  if  the  sun  should  rise  at  midnight.  By  its  increasing  in 
breadth  and  lustre,  I  soon  found  that  it  approached  towards 
the  earth  ;  and  at  length  could  discern  something  like  a  shadow 
hovering  in  the  midst  of  a  great  glory,  which  in  a  little  time 

*  Libra,  or  the  Balance,  is  next  to  the  sign  Virgo,  into  which  Astrjea,  the 
goddess  of  justice,  was  translated,  when  she  could  no  longer  stay  on  earth. 


160  THE    TATLER.  [No.  100. 

after  I  distinctly  perceived  to  be  the  figure  of  a  woman.  I 
fancied  at  first  it  might  have  been  the  angel,  or  intelligence 
that  guided  the  constellation  from  which  it  descended  ;  but, 
upon  a  nearer  view,  I  saw  about  her  all  the  emblems  with 
which  the  goddess  of  justice  is  usually  described.  Her  coun- 
tenance was  unspeakably  awful  and  majestic,  but  exquisitely 
beautiful  to  those  whose  eyes  were  strong  enough  to  behold  it  ; 
her  smiles  transported  with  rapture,  her  fi'owns  terrified  to 
despair.  She  held  in  her  hand  a  mirror,  endowed  with  the  same 
qualities  as  that  which  the  painters  put  into  the  hand  of  truth. 

There  streamed  from  it  a  light,  which  distinguished  itself 
fi'om  all  the  splendours  that  surrounded  her,  more  than  a  flash 
of  lightning  shines  in  the  midst  of  day-light.  As  she  moved  it 
in  her  hand,  it  brightened  the  heavens,  the  air,  or  the  earth. 
When  she  had  descended  so  low  as  to  be  seen  and  heard  by 
mortals,  to  make  the  pomp  of  her  appearance  more  supportable, 
she  threw  darkness  and  clouds  about  her,  that  tempered  the 
light  into  a  thousand  beautiful  shades  and  colours,  and  multi- 
plied that  lustre,  which  was  before  too  strong  and  dazzling,  into 
a  variety  of  milder  glories. 

In  the  meantime,  the  world  was  in  an  alarm,  and  all  the  in- 
habitants of  it  gathered  together  upon  a  spacious  plain  ;  so 
that  I  seemed  to  have  the  whole  species  before  my  eyes.  A 
voice  was  heard  from  the  clouds,  declaring  the  intention  of  this 
visit,  which  was  to  restore  and  appropriate  to  every  one  living 
what  was  his  due.  The  fear  and  hope,  joy  and  sorrow,  which 
appeared  in  that  great  assembly,  after  this  solemn  declaration, 
are  not  to  be  expressed.  The  first  edict  was  then  pronounced, 
"  That  all  titles  and  claims  to  riches  and  estates,  or  to  any  part 
of  them,  should  be  immediately  vested  in  the  rightful  owner." 
Upon  this,  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth  held  up  the  instruments 
of  their  tenure,  whether  in  parchment,  paper,  wax,  or  any  other 
form  of  conveyance  ;  and  as  the  goddess  moved  the  mirror  of 
truth  which  she  held  in  her  hand,  so  that  the  light  which 
flowed  from  it  fell  upon  the  multitude,  they  examined  the 
several  instruments  by  the  beams  of  it.  The  rays  of  this  mirror 
had  a  particular  quality  of  setting  fire  to  all  forgery  and  false- 


No.  100.]  A    VISION.  161 

hood.  The  blaze  of  papers,  the  melting  of  seals,  and  crackling 
of  parchments,  made  a  very  odd  scene.  The  fire  very  often  ran 
through  two  or  three  lines  only,  and  then  stopped.  Though  I 
could  not  but  observe  that  the  flames  chiefly  broke  out  among 
the  interlineations  and  codicils  ;  the  light  of  the  mirror,  as  it 
was  turned  up  and  down,  pierced  into  all  the  dark  corners  and 
recesses  of  the  universe,  and  by  that  means  detected  many  writ- 
ings and  records  which  had  been  hidden  or  buried  by  time, 
chance,  or  design.  This  occasioned  a  wonderful  revolution 
among  the  people.  At  the  same  time,  the  spoils  of  extortion, 
fraud,  and  robbery,  with  all  the  fruits  of  bribery  and  corruption, 
were  thrown  together  into  a  prodigious  pile,  that  almost 
reached  to  the  clouds,  and  was  called  "  The  mount  of  restitu- 
tion ;  "  to  which  all  injured  persons  were  invited,  to  receive 
what  belons^ed  to  them. 

One  might  see  crowds  of  people  in  tattered  garments  come 
up,  and  change  deaths  with  others  that  were  dressed  with  lace 
and  embroidery.  Several  who  were  Plums,  or  very  near  it,  be- 
came men  of  moderate  fortunes  ;  and  many  others,  who  were 
overgrown  in  wealth  and  possessions,  had  no  more  left  than 
what  they  usually  spent.  "What  moved  my  concern  most  was, 
to  see  a  certain  street  of  the  greatest  credit  in  Europe  *  from 
one  end  to  the  other  become  bankrupt. 

The  next  command  was,  for  the  whole  body  of  mankind  to 
separate  themselves  into  their  proper  families  ;  which  was  no 
sooner  done,  but  an  edict  was  issued  out,  requiring  all  children 
"  to  repair  to  their  true  and  natural  fathers."  This  put  a  great 
part  of  the  assembly  in  motion  ;  for  as  the  mirror  was  moved 
over  them,  it  inspired  everyone  with  such  a  natural  instinct,  as 
directed  them  to  their  real  parents.  It  was  a  very  melancholy 
spectacle  to  see  the  fathers  of  very  large  families  become  child- 
less, and  bachelors  undone  by  a  charge  of  sons  and  daughters. 
You  might  see  a  presumptive  heir  of  a  great  estate  ask  blessing 
of  his  coachman,  and  a  celebrated  toast  paying  her  duty  to  a 
valet  de  chanibre.     Many,  under  vows  of  celibacy,  appeared 

*  Alluding  to  the  bankers  in  Lombard  Street. 


162  THE    TATLER.  [No.  100. 

surrounded  with  a  numerous  issue.  This  change  of  parentage 
would  have  caused  great  lamentation,  but  that  the  calamity  was 
pretty  common  ;  and  that  generally  those  who  lost  their 
children,  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  them  put  into  the 
hands  of  their  dearest  friends.  Men  were  no  sooner  settled  in 
their  right  to  their  possessions  and  their  progeny,  but  there 
was  a  third  order  proclaimed,  "  That  all  the  posts  of  dignity 
and  honour  in  the  universe  should  be  conferred  on  persons  of 
the  greatest  merit,  abilities,  and  perfection."  The  handsome, 
the  strong,  and  the  wealthy,  immediately  pressed  forward  ;  but, 
not  being  able  to  bear  the  splendour  of  the  mirror,  which 
played  upon  tiieir  faces,  they  immediately  fell  back  among  the 
crowd  :  but  as  the  goddess  tried  the  multitude  by  her  glass,  as 
the  eagle  does  its  young  ones  by  the  lustre  of  the  sun,  it  was 
remarkable,  that  everyone  turned  away  his  face  from  it,  who 
had  not  distinguished  himself  either  by  virtue,  knowledge,  or 
capacity  in  business,  either  military  or  civil.  This  select 
assembly  was  drawn  up  in  the  centre  of  a  prodigious  multitude, 
which  was  diffused  on  all  sides,  and  stood  observing  them,  as 
idle  people  use  to  gather  about  a  regiment  that  are  exercising 
their  arms.  They  were  drawn  up  in  three  bodies  :  in  the  first, 
were  the  men  of  virtue  ;  in  the  second,  men  of  knowledge  ;  and 
in  the  third,  the  men  of  business.  It  was  impossible  to  look 
at  the  first  column  without  a  secret  veneration,  their  aspects 
were  so  sweetened  with  humanity,  raised  with  contemplation, 
emboldened  with  resolution,  and  adorned  with  the  most  agree- 
able airs,  which  are  those  that  proceed  from  secret  habits  of 
virtue.  I  could  not  but  take  notice,  that  there  were  many  faces 
among  them  which  were  unknown,  not  only  to  the  multitude, 
but  even  to  several  of  their  own  body. 

In  the  second  column,  consisting  of  the  men  of  knowledge, 
there  had  been  great  disputes  before  they  fell  into  the  ranks, 
which  they  did  not  do  at  last  without  the  positive  command  of 
the  goddess  who  presided  over  the  assembly.  She  had  so 
ordered  it,  that  men  of  the  greatest  genius  and  strongest  sense 
were  placed  at  the  head  of  the  column.  Behind  these  were 
such  as  had  formed  their  minds  very  much  on  the  thoughts 


No.  100.]  A    VISION.  163 

and  writings  of  others.  In  the  rear  of  the  column  were  men 
who  had  more  wit  than  sense,  or  more  learning  than  under- 
standing. All  living  authors  of  any  value  were  ranged  in  one 
of  these  classes  ;  but,  I  must  confess,  I  was  very  much  sur- 
prised to  see  a  great  body  of  editors,  critics,  commentators,  and 
grammarians,  meet  with  so  very  ill  a  reception.  They  had 
formed  themselves  into  a  body,  and  with  a  great  deal  of  arro- 
gance demanded  the  first  station  in  the  column  of  knowledge  ; 
but  the  goddess,  instead  of  complying  with  their  request, 
clapped  them  all  into  liveries,  and  bid  them  know  themselves 
for  no  other  but  lacquies  of  the  learned. 

The  third  column  were  men  of  business,  and  consisting  of 
persons  in  military  and  civil  capacities.  The  former  marched 
out  from  the  rest,  and  placed  themselves  in  the  front  ;  at  which 
the  others  shook  their  heads  at  them,  but  did  not  think  fit  to 
dispute  the  post  with  them.  I  could  not  but  make  several  ob- 
servations upon  this  last  column  of  people  ;  but  I  have  certain 
private  reasons  why  I  do  not  think  fit  to  communicate  them  to 
the  public.  In  order  to  fill  up  all  the  posts  of  honour,  dignity, 
and  profit,  there  was  a  draught  made  out  of  each  column  of  men, 
who  were  masters  of  all  three  qualifications  in  some  degree,  and 
were  preferred  to  stations  of  the  first  rank.  The  second  draught 
was  made  out  of  such  as  were  possessed  of  any  two  of  the 
qualifications,  who  were  disposed  of  in  stations  of  a  second 
dignity.  Those  who  were  left,  and  were  endowed  only  with 
one  of  them,  had  their  suitable  posts.  When  this  was  over, 
there  remained  many  places  of  trust  and  profit  unfilled,  for 
which  there  were  fresh  draughts  made  out  of  the  surrounding 
multitude,  who  had  any  appearance  of  these  excellences,  or  were 
recommended  by  those  who  possessed  them  in  reality. 

All  were  surprised  to  see  so  many  new  faces  in  the  most 
eminent  dignities  ;  and  for  my  own  part,  I  was  very  well 
pleased  to  see  that  all  my  friends  either  kept  their  present  posts, 
or  were  advanced  to  higher. 

Having  filled  my  paper  with  those  particulars  of  my  vision 
which  concern  the  male  part  of  mankind,  I  must  reserve  for 
another  occasion  the  sequel  of  it,  which  relates  to  the  fair  sex. 


J  64  THE    TATLER.  [No.  102. 

A     CONTINUATION     OF 

THE  VISION. 

No.  102.    SATURDAY,  December  3,  1709.     [Addison.] 

The  male  world  were  dismissed  by  the  goddess  of  justice, 
and  disappeared,  when  on  a  sudden  the  whole  plain  was 
covered  with  women.  So  charming  a  multitude  filled  my 
heart  with  unspeakable  pleasure  ;  and  as  the  celestial  light  of 
the  mirror  shone  upon  their  faces,  several  of  them  seemed 
rather  persons  that  descended  in  the  train  of  the  goddess,  than 
such  who  were  brought  before  her  to  their  trial.  The  clack  of 
tongues,  and  confusion  of  voices,  in  this  new  assembly,  were 
so  very  great,  that  the  goddess  was  forced  to  command  silence 
several  times,  and  with  some  severit}^,  before  she  could  make 
them  attentive  to  her  edicts.  They  were  all  sensible  that  the 
most  important  affair  among  woman-kind  was  then  to  be 
settled,  which  every  one  knows  to  be  the  point  of  place.  This 
had  raised  innumerable  disputes  among  them,  and  put  the 
whole  sex  into  a  tumult.  Every  one  produced  her  claim,  and 
pleaded  her  pretensions.  Birth,  teauUj,  tvit,  or  tvealth,  were 
words  that  rung  in  my  ears  from  all  parts  of  the  plain.  Some 
boasted  of  the  merit  of  their  husbands ;  others  of  their  own 
poAver  in  governing  them.  Some  pleaded  their  unspotted 
virginity  ;  others  their  numerous  issue.  Some  valued  them- 
selves as  they  were  the  mothers,  and  others  as  they  were  the 
daughters,  of  considerable  persons.  There  was  not  a  single 
accomplishment  unmentioned,  or  unpractised.  The  whole 
congregation  was  full  of  singing,  dancing,  tossing,  ogling, 
squeaking,  smiling,  fighting,  fanning,  frowning,  and  all  those 
irresistible  arts  which  women  put  in  practice,  to  captivate  the 
hearts  ,of  reasonable  creatures.  The  goddess,  to  end  this 
dispute,  caused  it  to  be  proclaimed,  "  that  everyone  should 
take  place  according  as  she  was  more  or  less  beautiful."  This 
declaration  gave   great   satisfaction   to   the  whole   assembly, 


No.  102.]         A    CONTINUATION    OF    THE    VISION.  165 

which  immediately  bridled  up,  and  appeared  in  all  its  beauties. 
Such  as  believed  themselves  graceful  in  their  motion  found  an 
occasion  of  falling  back,  advancing  forward,  or  making  a  false 
step,  that  they  might  show  their  persons  in  the  most  becoming 
air.  Such  as  had  fine  necks  and  bosoms  were  wonderfully 
curious  to  look  over  the  heads  of  the  multitude,  and  observe 
the  most  distant  parts  of  the  assembly.  Several  clapt  their 
hands  on  their  foreheads,  as  helping  their  sight  to  look  upon 
the  glories  that  surrounded  the  goddess,  but  in  reality  to  shew 
fine  hands  and  arms.  The  ladies  were  yet  better  pleased,  when 
they  heard  "  that,  in  the  decision  of  this  great  controversy,  each 
of  them  should  be  her  own  judge,  and  take  her  place  accord- 
ing to  her  own  opinion  of  herself,  when  she  consulted  her 
looking-glass." 

The  goddess  then  let  down  the  mirror  of  truth  in  a  golden 
chain,  which  appeared  larger  in  proportion  as  it  descended  and 
approached  nearer  to  the  eyes  of  the  beholders.  It  was  the 
particular  property  of  this  looking-glass,  to  banish  all  false 
appearances,  and  shew  people  what  they  are.  The  whole 
woman  was  represented,  without  regard  to  the  usual  external 
features,  which  were  made  entirely  conformable  to  their  real 
characters.  In  short,  the  most  accomplished,  taking  in  the 
whole  circle  of  female  perfections,  were  the  most  beautiful ; 
and  the  most  defective,  the  most  deformed.  The  goddess  so 
varied  the  motion  of  the  glass,  and  placed  it  in  so  many 
different  lights,  that  each  had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  herself 
in  it. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  rage,  the  pleasure,  or 
astonishment,  that  appeared  in  each  face  upon  its  representa- 
tion in  the  mirror  ;  multitudes  started  at  their  own  form,  and 
would  have  broke  the  glass  if  they  could  have  reached  it. 
Many  saw  their  blooming  features  wither  as  they  looked  upon 
them,  and  their  self-admiration  turned  into  a  loathing  and  abhor- 
rence. The  lady  who  was  thought  so  agreeable  in  her  anger, 
and  was  so  often  celebrated  for  a  woman  of  fire  and  spirit,  was 
frighted  at  her  own  image,  and  fancied  she  saw  a  Fury  in  the 
glass.     The  interested  mistress  beheld  a  Harpy,  and  the  subtle 


166  THE    TATLER.  [No.  102. 

jilt  a  Sphinx.  I  was  very  much  troubled  in  my  own  heart,  to 
see  such  a  destruction  of  fine  faces  ;  but  at  the  same  time  had 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  several  improved,  which  I  had  before 
looked  upon  as  the  greatest  master-piece  of  nature.  I  observed, 
that  some  few  were  so  humble  as  to  be  surprised  at  their  own 
charms,  and  that  many  a  one,  who  had  lived  in  the  retirement 
and  severity  of  a  Yestal,  shined  forth  in  all  the  graces  and 
attractions  of  a  Siren.  I  was  ravished  at  the  sight  of  a  par- 
ticular image  in  the  mirror,  which  I  think  the  most  beautiful 
object  that  my  eyes  ever  beheld.  There  was  something  more 
than  human  in  her  countenance  ;  her  eyes  were  so  full  of  light, 
that  they  seemed  to  beautify  everything  they  looked  upon. 
Her  face  was  enlivened  with  such  a  florid  bloom,  as  did  not  so 
properly  seem  the  mark  of  health,  as  of  immortality.  Her 
shape,  her  stature,  and  her  mien,  were  such  as  distinguished 
her  even  there,  where  the  whole  fair  sex  was  assembled. 

I  was  impatient  to  see  the  lady  represented  by  so  divine  an 
image,  whom  I  found  to  be  the  person  that  stood  at  my  right 
hand,  and  in  the  same  point  of  view  with  myself.  This  was  a 
little  old  woman,  who  in  her  prime  had  been  about  five  feet 
high,  though  at  present  shrunk  to  about  three  quarters  of 
that  measure.  Her  natural  aspect  was  puckered  up  with 
wrinkles,  and  her  head  covered  with  gray  hairs.  I  had 
observed  all  along  an  innocent  cheerfulness  in  her  face,  which 
was  now  heightened  into  rapture,  as  she  beheld  herself  in  the 
glass.  It  was  an  odd  circumstance  in  my  dream,  but  I  cannot 
forbear  relating  it,  I  conceived  so  great  an  inclination  towards 
her,  that  I  had  thoughts  of  discoursing  her  upon  the  point  of 
marriage,  when  on  a  sudden  she  was  carried  from  me  ;  for  the 
word  was  now  given,  that  all  who  were  pleased  with  their  own 
images  should  separate,  and  place  themselves  at  the  head  of 
their  sex. 

This  detachment  was  afterwards  divided  into  three  bodies, 
consisting  of  maids,  wives,  and  widows ;  the  wives  being 
placed  in  the  middle,  with  the  maids  on  the  right,  and  widows 
on  the  left,  though  it  w^as  with  difficulty  that  these  two  last 
bodies   were   hindered   from   falling    into   the  centre.     This 


Xo.  102.]         A    COXTIXUATIOX    OF    THE    VrSIOX.  167 

separation  of  those  who  liked  their  real  selves  not  having 
lessened  the  number  of  the  main  body  so  considerably  as  it 
might  have  been  wished,  the  goddess,  after  having  drawn  up 
her  mirror,  thought  fit  to  make  new  distinctions  among  those 
"who  did  not  like  the  figure  which  they  saw  in  it.  She  made 
several  wholesome  edicts,  which  are  slipped  out  of  my  mind  ; 
but  there  were  two  which  dwelt  upon  me,  as  being  very  extra- 
ordinary in  their  kind,  and  executed  with  great  severity 
Their  design  was,  to  make  an  example  of  two  extremes  in  the 
female  world  ;  of  those  who  are  very  severe  on  the  conduct  of 
others,  and  of  those  who  are  very  regardless  of  their  own.  The 
first  sentence,  therefore,  the  goddess  pronounced  was,  that  all 
females  addicted  to  censoriousness  and  detraction  should  lose 
the  use  of  speech  ;  a  punishment  which  would  be  the  most 
grievous  to  the  offender,  and,  what  should  be  the  end  of  all 
punishments,  effectual  for  rooting  out  the  crime.  Upon  this 
edict,  which  was  as  soon  executed  as  published,  the  noise  of 
the  assembly  very  considerably  abated.  It  was  a  melancholy 
spectacle,  to  see  so  many  who  had  the  reputation  of  rigid  virtue 
struck  dumb.  A  lady  who  stood  by  me,  and  saw  my  concern, 
told  me,  "  she  wondered  how^  I  could  be  concerned  for  such  a 

pack  of ."     I  found,  by  the  shaking  of  her  head,  she  was 

going  to  give  me  their  characters  ;  but,  by  her  saying  no  more, 
I  perceived  she  had  lost  the  command  of  her  tongue.  This 
calamity  fell  very  heavy  upon  that  part  of  women  who  are 
distinguished  by  the  name  of  Prudes,  a  courtly  word  for  female 
hypocrites,  who  have  a  short  way  to  being  virtuous,  by  showing 
that  others  are  vicious.  The  second  sentence  was  then  pro- 
nounced against  the  loose  part  of  the  sex,  that  all  should 
imnicdiately  be  pregnant,  who  in  any  part  of  their  lives  had 
run  the  hazard  of  it.  This  produced  a  very  goodly  appear- 
ance, and  revealed  so  many  misconducts,  that  made  those  who 
were  lately  struck  dumb  repine  more  than  ever  at  their  want 
of  utterance  ;  though  at  the  same  time,  as  afflictions  seldom 
come  siugle,  many  of  the  mutes  were  also  seized  with  this  new 
calamity.  The  ladies  were  now  in  such  a  condition,  that  they 
would  have  wanted  room,  had  not  the  plain  been  large  enough 

N 


168  THE    TATLER.  [No.  102. 

to  let  them  divide  their  ground,  and  extend  their  lines  on  all 
sides.  It  was  a  sensible  affliction  to  me,  to  see  such  a  multi- 
tude of  fair  ones,  either  dumb  or  big-bellied.  But  I  was  some- 
thing more  at  ease,  when  I  found  that  they  agreed  upon  several 
regulations  to  cover  such  misfortunes.  Among  others,  that  it 
should  be  an  established  maxim  in  all  nations,  that  a  woman's 
first  child  might  come  into  the  world  within  six  months  after 
her  acquaintance  with  her  husband  ;  and  that  grief  might 
retard  the  birth  of  her  last  until  fourteen  months  after  his 
decease. 

This  vision  lasted  until  my  usual  hour  of  waking,  which  I 
did  with  some  surprise,  to  find  myself  alone,  after  having  been 
engaged  almost  a  whole  night  in  so  prodigious  a  multitude.  I 
could  not  but  reflect  with  wonder  at  the  partiality  and 
extravagance  of  my  vision  ;  which,  according  to  my  thoughts, 
has  not  done  justice  to  the  sex.  If  virtue  in  men  is  more 
venerable,  it  is  in  women  more  lovely  ;  which  Milton  has  very 
finely  expressed  in  his  Paradise  Lost,  where  Adam,  speaking  of 
Eve,  after  having  asserted  his  own  pre-eminence,  as  being  first 
in  creation  and  internal  faculties,  breaks  out  into  the  following 
rapture  : 

Yet  when  I  approach 


Her  loveliness,  so  absoliite  she  seems, 
And  in  herself  compleat,  so  well  to  know 
Her  own,  that  what  she  wills,  or  do,  or  say, 
Seems  wisest,  virtuousest,  discreetest,  best. 
All  higher  knowledge  in  her  presence  falls 
Degraded,  wisdom  in  discourse  with  her 
Loses  discountenanc'd,  and  like  folly  shews. 
Authority  and  reason  on  her  wait. 
As  one  intended  first,  not  after  made 
Occasionally.     And,  to  consummate  all, 
Greatness  of  mind,  and  nobleness,  their  seat 
Build  in  her  loveliest,  and  create  an  awe 
About  her,  as  a  guard  angelic  plac'd. 


Xo.  104.]  MRS.    TRANQUILLUS.  169 

MES.  TEAXQUILLUS. 

No.  104.    THURSDAY,  December  8,  1709.     [Steele.] 

Garrit  aniles 


Ex  re  fabeUas .  Hor.  2  Sat.  vi.  78. 

He  tells  an  old  wife's  tale  very  pertinently. 

My  brother  Tranqnillus  being  gone  out  of  town  for  some 
days,  my  sister  Jenny  sent  me  word  she  would  come  and  dine 
with  me,  and  therefore  desired  me  to  have  no  other  company. 
1  took  care  accordingly,  and  was  not  a  little  pleased  to  see  her 
enter  the  room  with  a  decent  and  matron-like  behaviour,  which 
I  thought  yery  much  became  her.  I  saw  she  had  a  great  deal 
to  say  to  me,  and  easily  discovered  in  her  eyes,  and  the  air  of 
her  countenance,  that  she  had  abundance  of  satisfaction  in  her 
heart,  which  she  longed  to  communicate.  However,  I  was 
resolved  to  let  her  break  into  her  discourse  her  own  way,  and 
reduced  her  to  a  thousand  little  devices  and  intimations  to 
bring  me  to  the  mention  of  her  husband.  But,  finding  I  was 
resolved  not  to  name  him,  she  began  of  her  own  accord.  "  My 
husband,"  said  she,  "gives  his  humble  service  to  you  ;  "  to 
which  I  only  answered,  "  I  hope  he  is  well ; "  and,  without 
waiting  for  a  reply,  fell  into  other  subjects.  She  at  last  was 
out  of  all  patience,  and  said,  with  a  smile  and  manner  that  I 
thought  had  more  beauty  and  spirit  than  I  had  ever  observed 
before  in  her,  "  I  did  not  think,  brother,  you  had  been  so  ill- 
natured.  You  have  seen,  ever  since  I  came  in,  that  I  had  a 
mind  to  talk  of  my  husband,  and  you  will  not  be  so  kind  as  to 
give  me  an  occasion." — "  I  did  not  know,"  said  I,  "  but  it  might 
be  a  disagreeable  subject  to  you.  Y"ou  do  not  take  me  for  so 
old-fashioned  a  fellow^  as  to  think  of  entertaining  a  young 
lady  with  the  discourse  of  her  husband.  I  know,  nothing  is 
more  acceptable  than  to  speak  of  one  who  is  to  be  so  ;  but  to 
speak  of  one  who  is  so  !  indeed,  Jenny,  I  am  a  better  bred  man 
than  you  think  me."  She  shewed  a  little  dislike  at  my  rail- 
lery ;  and,  by  her  bridling  up,  I  perceived  she  expected  to  be 

N   2 


170  THE    TATLER.  [No.  104. 

treated  hereafter  not  as  Jenny  Distaff,  but  Mrs.  Tranquillus. 
I  was  yery  well  pleased  with  this  change  in  her  humour  ;  and, 
upon  talking  with  her  on  several  subjects,  I  could  not  but  fancy 
that  I  saw  a  great  deal  of  her  husband's  way  and  manner  in 
her  remarks,  her  phrases,  the  tone  of  her  voice,  and  the  very 
air  of  her  countenance.  This  gave  me  an  unspeakable  satisfac- 
tion, not  only  because  I  had  found  her  an  husband,  from  whom 
she  could  learn  many  things  that  were  laudable,  but  also 
because  I  looked  upon  her  imitation  of  him  as  an  infallible 
sign  that  she  entirely  loved  him. 

This  is  an  observation  that  I  never  knew  fail,  though  I  do  not 
remember  that  any  other  has  made  it.  The  natural  shyness  of 
her  sex  hindered  her  from  telling  me  the  greatness  of  her  own 
passion ;  but  I  easily  collected  it  from  the  representation  she 
gave  me  of  his.  "  I  have  everything,"  says  she,  ^'  in  Tran- 
quillus, that  I  can  wish  for  ;  and  enjoy  in  him,  what  indeed 
you  have  told  me  were  to  be  met  with  in  a  good  husband, 
the  fondness  of  a  lover,  the  tenderness  of  a  parent,  and  the 
intimacy  of  a  friend."  It  transported  me  to  see  her  eyes 
swimming  in  tears  of  affection  when  she  spoke.  "  And  is 
there  not,  dear  sister,"  said  I,  "  more  pleasure  in  the  posses- 
sion of  such  a  man,  than  in  all  the  little  impertinences  of  balls, 
assemblies,  and  equipage,  which  it  cost  me  so  much  pains  to 
make  you  contemn  ?  "  She  answered,  smiling,  "Tranquillus 
has  made  me  a  sincere  convert  in  a  few  weeks,  though  I  am 
afraid  you  could  not  have  done  it  in  your  whole  life.  To  tell 
you  truly,  I  have  only  one  fear  hanging  upon  me,  which  is  apt 
to  give  me  trouble  in  the  midst  of  all  my  satisfactions  :  I  am 
afraid,  you  must  know,  that  I  shall  not  always  make  the  same 
amiable  appearance  in  his  eye  that  I  do  at  present.  You  know, 
brother  Bickerstaff,  that  you  have  the  reputation  of  a  conjurer  ; 
and  if  you  have  any  one  secret  in  your  art  to  make  your  sister 
always  beautiful,  I  should  be  happier  than  if  I  were  mistress  of  all 
the  worlds  you  have  shown  me  in  a  starry  night." — "  Jenny," 
said  I,  "without  having  recourse  to  magic,  I  shall  give  you 
one  plain  rule,  that  will  not  fail  of  making  you  always  amiable 
to  a  man  who  has  so  great  a  passion  for  you,  and  is  of  so  equal 


No.  104.]  MRS.    TRAXQUILLUS.  171 

and  reasonable  a  temper  as  Tranquillus.  Endeavour  to  please, 
and  YOU  must  please  ;  be  always  in  the  same  disposition  as  you 
are  when  you  ask  for  this  secret,  and  you  may  take  my  word, 
you  will  never  want  it.  An  inviolable  fidelity,  good  humour, 
and  complacency  of  temper,  out-live  all  the  charms  of  a  fine 
face,  and  make  the  decays  of  it  invisible." 

We  discoursed  very  long  upon  this  head,  which  was  equally 
agreeable  to  us  both  ;  for  I  must  confess,  as  I  tenderly  love 
her,  I  take  as  much  pleasure  in  giving  her  instructions  for  her 
welfare,  as  she  herself  does  in  receiving  them.  I  proceeded, 
therefore,  to  inculcate  these  sentiments,  by  relating  a  very 
particular  passage  that  happened  within  my  own  knowledge. 

There  were  several  of  us  making  merry  at  a  friend's  house 
in  a  country  village,  when  the  sexton  of  the  parish  dmrch 
entered  the  room  in  a  sort  of  surprise,  and  told  us,  "  that  as  he 
was  digging  a  grave  in  the  chancel,  a  little  blow  of  his  pick- 
axe opened  a  decayed  cofiiu,  in  which  there  were  several  written 
papers."  Our  curiosity  was  immediately  raised,  so  that  we  went 
to  the  place  where  the  sexton  had  been  at  work,  and  found  a 
great  concourse  of  people  about  the  grave.  Among  the  rest, 
there  was  an  old  woman,  who  told  us,  the  person  buried  there 
was  a  lady  whose  name  I  do  not  think  fit  to  mention,  though 
there  is  nothing  in  the  story  but  what  tends  very  much  to  her 
honour.  This  lady  lived  several  years  an  exemplary  pattern  of 
conjugal  love,  and,  dying  soon  after  her  husband,  who  every 
way  answered  her  character  in  virttte  and  affection,  made  it  her 
death-bed  request,  "  that  all  the  letters  which  she  had  received 
from  him  both  before  and  after  her  marriage  should  be  buried 
in  the  coffin  with  her."  These,  I  found  upon  examination, 
were  the  papers  before  us.  Several  of  them  had  suffered  so 
much  by  time,  that  I  could  only  pick  out  a  few  words  ;  as  my 
801(1/  lilies/  roses/  dearest  angel!  and  the  like.  One  of 
them,  which  was  legible  throughout,  ran  thus : 

"  Madam, 

"  If  you  would  know  the  greatness  of  my  love,  con- 
sider that  of  your  own  beauty.  That  blooming  countenance, 
that  snowy  bosom,  that  graceful  person,  return  every  moment 


172  THE    TATLER.  [No.  104. 

to  mj  imagination  :  the  brightness  of  your  eyes  hath  hindered 
me  from  closing  mine  since  I  last  saw  you.  You  may  still  add 
to  your  beauties  by  a  smile.  A  frown  will  make  me  the  most 
wretched  of  men,  as  I  am  the  most  passionate  of  lovers.'' 

It  filled  the  whole  company  with  a  deep  melancholy,  to  com- 
pare the  description  of  the  letter  with  the  person  that  occasioned 
it,  who  was  now  reduced  to  a  few  crumbling  bones  and  a  little 
mouldering  heap  of  earth.  AVith  much  ado  I  decyphered 
another  letter,  which  began  with,  "  My  dear,  dear  wife."  This 
gave  me  a  curiosity  to  see  how  the  style  of  one  written  in 
marriage  differed  from  one  written  in  courtship.  To  my 
surprise,  I  found  the  fondness  rather  augmented  than  lessened, 
though  the  panegyric  turned  upon  a  different  accomplishment. 
The  words  were  as  follows  : 

"Before  this  short  absence  fi'om  you,  I  did  not  know  that  I 
loved  you  so  much  as  I  really  do  ;  though,  at  the  same  time,  I 
thought  I  loved  you  as  much  as  possible.  I  am  under  great 
apprehension,  lest  you  should  have  any  uneasiness  whilst  I  am 
defrauded  of  my  share  in  it,  and  cannot  think  of  tasting  any 
pleasures  that  you  do  not  partake  with  me.  Pray,  my  dear,  be 
careful  of  your  health,  if  for  no  other  reason,  but  because  you 
know  I  could  not  outlive  you.  It  is  natural  in  absence  to 
make  professions  of  an  inviolable  constancy  ;  but  towards  so 
much  merit,  it  is  scarce  a  virtue,  especially  when  it  is  but  a 
bare  return  to  that  of  which  you  have  given  me  such  continued 
proofs  ever  since  our  first  acquaintance.     I  am,  &c." 

It  happened  that  the  daughter  of  these  two  excellent  persons 
was  by  when  I  was  reading  this  letter.  At  the  sight  of  the 
coffin,  in  which  was  the  body  of  her  mother,  near  that  of  her 
father,  she  melted  into  a  flood  of  tears.  As  I  had  heard  a  great 
character  of  her  virtue,  and  observed  in  her  this  instance  of  filial 
piety,  I  could  not  resist  my  natural  inclination  of  giving  advice 
to  young  people,  and  therefore  addressed  myself  to  her. 
"Young  lady,"  said  I,  "you  see  how  short  is  the  possession  of 
that  beaut}^  in  which  nature  has  been  so  liberal  to  you.  You 
find  the  melancholy  sight  before  you  is  a   contradiction  to  the 


Xo.  108.]  SELF    RESPECT.  173 

first  letter  that  you  heard  on  that  subject ;  whereas  yon  may 
observe,  the  second  letter,  which  celebrates  your  mother's  con- 
stancy, is  itself,  being  found  in  this  place,  an  aro-ument  of  it. 
But,  madam,  I  ought  to  caution  you,  not  to  think  the  bodies 
that  lie  before  you  your  father  and  your  mother.  Know,  their 
constancy  is  rewarded  bv  a  noblier  union  than  by  thisminf^lino- 
of  their  ashes,  in  a  state  where  there  is  no  danger  or  possibility 
of  a  second  separation." 


SELF   EESPECT. 

No.  108.     SATURDAY,  DECEiiBER  17,  1709.      [Addisox.] 

Pronaque  cum  spectent  animalia  ccetera  terram, 

Os  homini  sublime  dedit  :  Ccelumque  tueri 

Jussit .  Ovid.  Met.  i.  85. 

Thus,  ■while  the  mute  creation  doT\'n'u-ard  bend 
Their  sight,  and  to  their  earthly  mother  tend, 
Man  looks  aloft,  and  with  erected  eyes 
Beholds  his  own  hereditary  skies. 

It  is  not  to  be  imagined  how  great  an  effect  well-disposed 
lights,  with  proper  forms  and  orders  in  assemblies,  have  upon 
some  tempers.  I  am  sure  I  feel  it  in  so  extraordinary  a  manner, 
that  I  cannot  in  a  day  or  two  get  out  of  my  imagination  any 
very  beautiful  or  disagreeable  impression  which  I  receive  on 
such  occasions.  For  this  reason  I  fi-equently  look  in  at  the 
playhouse,  in  order  to  enlarge  my  thoughts,  and  warm  my 
mind  with  some  new  ideas,  that  may  be  serviceable  to  me  in  my 
Lucubrations. 

In  this  disposition  I  entered  the  theatre  the  other  day,  and 
placed  myself  in  a  corner  of  it  very  convenient  for  seeing, 
without  being  myself  observed.  I  found  the  audience  hushed 
in  a  very  deep  attention,  and  did  not  question  but  some  noble 
tragedy  was  just  then  in  its  crisis,  or  that  an  incident  was  to  be 
unravelled,  which  would  determine  the  fate  of  a  hero.     "While 


174  THE    TATLER.  L^'o.  108. 

I  "was  in  tliis  suspense,  expecting  every  moment  to  see  my  old 
friend  Mr.  Betterton  appear  in  all  the  majesty  of  distress,  to  my 
unspeakable  amazement  there  came  up  a  monster  with  a  face 
between  his  feet  ;  and  as  I  was  looking  on,  he  raised  himself 
on  one  hg  in  such  a  perpendicular  posture,  that  the  other  grew 
in  a  direct  line  above  his  head.  It  afterwards  twisted  itself 
into  the  motions  and  wreathings  of  several  different  animals, 
and  after  great  variety  of  shapes  and  transformations,  went  off 
the  stage  in  the  figure  of  a  human  creature.  The  admiration, 
the  applause,  the  satisfaction  of  the  audience,  during  this 
strange  entertainment,  is  not  to  be  expressed.  I  was  very 
much  out  of  countenance  for  my  dear  countrymen,  and  looked 
about  with  some  apprehension,  for  fear  any  foreigner  should  be 
present.  Is  it  possible,  thought  I,  that  human  nature  can 
rejoice  in  its  disgrace,  and  take  pleasure  in  seeing  its  own 
figure  turned  to  ridicule,  and  distorted  into  forms  that  raise 
horror  and  aversion  ?  There  is  something  disingenuous  and 
immoral  in  the  being  able  to  bear  such  a  sight.  Men  of 
elegant  and  noble  minds  are  shocked  at  seeing  the  characters 
of  persons  who  deserve  esteem  for  their  virtue,  knowledge,  or 
services  to  their  country,  placed  in  wrong  lights  and  by  misre- 
presentation made  the  subject  of  buffoonery.  Such  a  nice 
abhorrence  is  not  indeed  to  be  found  among  the  vulgar  ;  but 
methinks  it  is  wonderful,  that  those  who  have  nothing  but  the 
outward  figure  to  distinguish  them  as  men  should  delight  in 
seeing  humanity  abused,  vilified,  and  disgraced. 

I  must  confess,  there  is  nothing  that  more  pleases  me,  in  all 
that  I  read  in  books,  or  see  among  mankind,  than  such  passages 
as  represent  human  nature  in  its  proper  dignity.  As  man  is  a 
creature  made  up  of  different  extremes,  he  has  something  in 
him  very  great  and  very  mean.  A  skilful  artist  may  draw  an 
excellent  picture  of  him  in  either  of  these  views.  The  finest 
authors  of  antiquity  have  taken  him  on  the  more  advantageous 
side.  They  cultivate  the  natural  grandeur  of  the  soul,  raise  in 
her  a  generous  ambition,  feed  her  with  hopes  of  immortality 
and  perfection,  and  do  all  they  can  to  widen  the  partition 
between  the  virtuous  and  the  vicious,  by  making  the  difference 


No.  108.]  SELF    RESPECT.  176 

betwixt  them  as  great  as  between  gods  and  brutes.  In  short, 
it  is  impossible  to  read  a  page  in  Plato,  Tullj,  and  a  thousand 
other  ancient  moralists,  without  being  a  greater  and  a  better 
man  for  it.  On  the  contrary,  I  could  never  read  any  of  our 
modish  French  authors,  or  those  of  our  own  country,  who  are 
the  imitators  and  admirers  of  that  trifling  nation,  without  being 
for  some  time  out  of  humour  with  myself,  and  at  every  thing 
about  me.  Their  business  is,  to  depreciate  human  nature,  and 
consider  it  under  its  worst  appearances.  They  give  mean 
interpretations  and  base  motives  to  the  worthiest  actions  :  they 
resolve  virtue  and  vice  into  constitution.  In  short,  they 
endeavour  to  make  no  distinction  between  man  and  man,  or 
between  the  species  of  men  and  that  of  brutes.  As  an  instance 
of  this  kind  of  authors,  among  many  others,  let  any  one  examine 
the  celebrated  Rochefoucault,  who  is  the  great  philosopher  for 
administering  of  consolation  to  the  idle,  the  envious,  and 
worthless  part  of  mankind. 

I  remember  a  young  gentleman  of  moderate  understanding, 
but  great  vivacity,  who  by  dipping  into  many  authors  of  this 
nature,  had  got  a  little  smattering  of  knowledge,  just  enough 
to  make  an  atheist  or  a  free-thinker,  but  not  a  philosopher  or 
a  man  of  sense.  "With  these  accomplishments,  he  went  to  visit 
his  father  in  the  country,  who  was  a  plain,  rough,  honest  man, 
and  wise,  though  not  learned.  The  son,  who  took  all  oppor- 
tunities to  shew  his  learnino-  began  to  establish  a  new  religion 
in  the  family,  and  to  enlarge  the  narrowness  of  their  country 
notions  ;  in  which  he  succeeded  so  well,  that  he  had  seduced 
the  butler  by  his  table-talk,  and  staggered  his  eldest  sister. 
The  old  gentleman  began  to  be  alarmed  at  the  schisms  that 
arose  among  his  children,  but  did  not  yet  believe  his  son's 
doctrine  to  be  so  pernicious  as  it  really  was,  until  one  day 
talking  of  his  setting-dog,  the  son  said,  "  he  did  not  question 
but  Trey  was  as  immortal  as  any  one  of  the  family  ; "  and  in 
the  heat  of  the  argument  told  his  father,  ''that,  for  his  own 
part,  he  expected  to  die  like  a  dog."  Upon  which,  the  old  man 
starting  up  in  a  very  great  passion,  cried  out,  "  Then,  sirrah, 
you  shall  live  like  one  ;"  and  taking  his  cane  in  his  hand,  cud- 


176  THE    TATLER.  [No.  108. 

gelled  him  out  of  his  system.  This  had  so  good  an  effect  upon 
him,  that  he  took  up  from  that  day,  fell  to  reading  good  books, 
and  is  now  a  bencher  in  the  Middle  Temple. 

I  do  not  mention  this  cudgelling  part  of  the  story  with  a 
design  to  engage  the  secular  arm  in  matters  of  this  nature  ; 
but  certainl}'",  if  it  ever  exerts  itself  in  affairs  of  opinion  and 
speculation,  it  ought  to  do  it  on  such  shallow  and  despicable 
pretenders  to  knowledge,  who  endeavour  to  give  man  dark  and 
uncomfortable  prospects  of  his  being,  and  destroy  those  prin- 
ciples which  are  the  support,  happiness,  and  glory  of  all  public 
societies,  as  well  as  private  persons. 

I  think  it  is  one  of  Pythagoras's  golden  sayings,  "  That  a 
man  should  take  care  above  all  things  to  have  a  due  respect 
for  himself."  And  it  is  certain,  that  this  licentious  sort  of 
authors,  who  are  for  depreciating  mankind,  endeavour  to 
disappoint  and  undo  what  the  most  refined  spirits  have  been 
labouring  to  advance  since  the  beginning  of  the  world.  The 
very  design  of  dress,  good-breeding,  outward  ornaments,  and 
ceremony,  were  to  lift  up  human  nature,  and  set  it  off  to  an 
advantage,  x^rchitecture,  painting,  and  statuary,  were  invented 
with  the  same  design  ;  as  indeed  every  art  and  science  contri- 
butes to  the  embellishment  of  life,  and  to  the  wearing  off  and 
throwing  into  shades  the  mean  and  low  parts  of  our  nature. 
Poetry  carries  on  this  great  end  more  than  all  the  rest,  as  may 
be  seen  in  the  following  passage  taken  out  of  sir  Francis 
Bacon's  "  Advancement  of  Learning,"  which  gives  a  truer  and 
better  account  of  this  art  than  all  the  volumes  that  were  ever 
written  upon  it. 

"  Poetry,  especially  heroical,  seems  to  be  raised  altogether 
from  a  noble  foundation,  which  makes  much  for  the  dignity  of 
man's  nature.  For  seeing  this  sensible  world  is  in  dignity 
inferior  to  the  soul  of  man,  poesy  seems  to  endow  hum.an 
nature  with  that  which  history  denies  ;  and  to  give  satisfaction 
to  the  mind,  with  at  least  the  shadow  of  things,  where  the 
substance  cannot  be  had.  For  if  the  matter  be  thoroughly 
considered,  a  strong  argument  may  be  drawn  from  poesy,  that  a 
more  stately  greatness  of  things,  a  more  perfect  order,  and  a 


No.  115.]  SIE    HANXIBAL.  177 

more  beautiful  variety,  delights  the  soul  of  man,  than  any  way 
can  be  found  in  nature  since  the  falL  Wherefore,  seeing  the 
acts  and  events,  which  are  the  subjects  of  true  history,  are  not 
of  that  amplitude  as  to  content  the  mind  of  man  ;  poesy  is 
ready  at  hand  to  feign  acts  more  heroical.  Because  true 
history  reports  the  successes  of  business  not  proportionable  to 
the  merit  of  virtues  and  vices,  -poesj  corrects  it,  and  presents 
events  and  fortunes  according  to  desert,  and  according  to  the 
law  of  Providence  :  because  true  history,  through  the  frequent 
satiety  and  similitude  of  things,  works  a  distaste  and  misprision 
in  the  mind  of  man  ;  poesy  cheareth  and  refresh etli  the  soul, 
chanting  things  rare  and  various,  and  fall  of  vicissitudes.  So 
as  poesy  serveth  and  conferreth  to  delectation,  magnanimity, 
and  morality  ;  and,  therefore,  it  may  seem  deservedly  to  have 
some  participation  of  divineness,  because  it  doth  raise  the 
mind,  and  exalt  the  spirit  with  high  raptures,  by  proportioning 
the  shews  of  things  to  the  desires  of  the  mind,  and  not  sub- 
mitting the  mind  to  things,  as  reason  and  history  do.  And  by 
these  allurements  and  congruities,  whereby  it  cherisheth  the 
soul  of  man,  joined  also  with  consort  of  music,  whereby  it  may 
more  sweetly  insinuate  itself,  it  hath  won  such  access,  that  it 
hath  been  in  estimation  even  in  rude  times,  and  barbarous 
nations,  when  other  learning  stood  excluded." 

But  there  is  nothing  which  favours  and  falls  in  with  this 
natural  greatness  and  dignity  of  human  nature  so  much  as 
religion,  which  does  not  only  promise  the  entire  refinement  of 
the  mind,  but  the  glorifying  of  the  body,  and  the  immortality 
of  both. 


SIR   HANNIBAL. 

No.  115.     MONDAY,  January  2,  1709-10.     [Steele,] 

I  CA3IE  in  here  [White's  Chocolate-house]  to-day  at  an  hour 
when  only  the  dead  appear  in  places  of  resort  and  gallantry, 


178  THE    TATLER.  [No.  llo. 

and  saw  hung  up  the  escutcheon  of  Sir  Hannibal,"^  a  gentleman 
who  used  to  frequent  this  place,  and  was  taken  up  and  interred 
by  the  company  of  upholders,  as  having  been  seen  here  at  an 
unlicensed  hour.  The  coat  of  the  deceased  is,  three  bowls  and 
a  jack  in  a  green  field  ;  the  crest,  a  dice-box,  with  the  king  of 
clubs  and  pam  for  supporters.  Some  days  ago  the  body  was 
carried  out  of  town  with  great  pomp  and  ceremony,  in  order  to 
be  buried  with  his  ancestors  at  the  Peak.  It  is  a  maxim  in 
morality,  that  we  are  to  speak  nothing  but  truth  of  the  living, 
nothing  but  good  of  the  dead.  As  I  have  carefully  observed 
the  first  during  his  lifetime,  I  shall  acquit  myself  as  to  the 
latter  now  he  is  deceased. 

He  was  knighted  very  young,  not  in  the  ordinary  form,  but 
by  the  common  consent  of  mankind.  He  was  in  his  person 
between  round  and  square;  in  the  motion  and  gesture  of 
his  body  he  was  unaffected  and  free,  as  not  having  too  great 
a  respect  for  superiors.  He  was  in  his  discourse  bold  and 
intrepid  ;  and  as  every  one  has  an  excellence,  as  well  as  a 
failing,  which  distinguishes  him  from  other  men,  eloquence 
was  his  predominant  quality,  which  he  had  to  so  great 
perfection,  that  it  was  easier  to  him  to  speak,  than  to  hold 
his  tongue.  This  sometimes  exposed  him  to  the  derision  of 
men  who  had  much  less  parts  than  himself :  and  indeed  his 
great  volubility,  and  inimitable  manner  of  speaking,  as  well  as 
the  great  courage  he  shewed  on  those  occasions,  did  sometimes 
betray  him  into  that  figure  of  speech  which  is  commonly  dis- 
tinguished by  the  name  of  gasconade.  To  mention  no  other, 
he  professed  in  this  very  place,  some  days  before  he  died, 
*'  that  he  would  be  one  of  the  six  that  would  undertake  to 
assault  me  ;  "  for  which  reason  I  have  had  his  figure  upon  my 
wall  until  the  hour  of  his  death  :  and  am  resolved  for  the 
future  to  bury  every  one  forthwith  who  I  hear  has  an  intention 
to  kill  me. 

Since  I  am  upon  the  subject  of  my  adversaries,  I  shall  here 
publish  a  short  letter,  which  I  have  received  from  a  well- 
wisher,  and  is  as  follows  : — 

*  Sir  James  Baker,  commonly  called  the  Kuiglit  of  the  Peak, 


No.  116.]  THE    PETTICOAT.  179 

"  Sage  Sm, 

"  You  ■  cannot  but  know,  there  are  many  scribblers, 
and  others,  who  revile  you  and  your  writings.  It  is  wondered 
that  you  do  not  exert  yourself,  and  crush  them  at  once.  I  am, 
sir,  with  great  respect, 

"  Your  most  humble  admirer  and  disciple." 

In  answer  to  this,  I  shall  act  like  my  predecessor  ^sop,  and 
give  him  a  fable  instead  of  a  reply. 

It  happened  one  day,  as  a  stout  and  honest  mastiff,  that 
guarded  the  village  where  he  lived  against  thieves  and  robbers, 
was  very  gravely  walking,  with  one  of  his  puppies  by  his  side, 
all  the  little  dogs  in  the  street  gathered  about  him,  and  barked 
at  him.  The  little  puppy  was  so  offended  at  this  affront  done 
to  his  sire,  that  he  asked  him  why  he  would  not  fall  upon 
them,  and  tear  them  to  pieces?  To  which  the  sire  answtred, 
with  great  composure  of  mind,  '•  If  there  were  no  curs,  I 
should  be  no  mastiff." 


THE    PETTICOAT. 

No.  116.     THUESDAY,  January  5,  1709-10.    [Addison.] 

Pars  minima  est  ipsa  puella  sui.  ■  Ovid. 

The  young  lady  is  the  least  part  of  herself. 

The  court  being  prepared  for- proceeding  on  the  cause  of  the 
petticoat,  I  gave  orders  to  bring  in  a  criminal,  who  was  taken 
up  as  she  went  out  of  the  puppet-shew  about  three  nights  ago, 
and  was  now  standing  in  the  street,  with  a  great  concourse  of 
people  about  her.  Word  was  brought  me,  that  she  had 
endeavoured  twice  or  thrice  to  come  in,  but  could  not  do  it  by 
reason  of  her  petticoat,  which  was  too  large  for  the  entrance  of 
my  house,  though  I  had  ordered  both  the  folding  doors  to  be 


180  THE    TATLER.  [No.  116. 

tbroAYn  open  for  its  reception.  Upon  this,  I  desired  the  jury 
of  matrons,  who  stood  at  my  right-hand,  to  inform  themselves 
of  her  condition,  and  know  whether  there  were  any  private 
reasons  why  she  might  not  make  her  appearance  separate  from 
her  petticoat.  This  was  managed  with  great  discretion,  and 
had  such  an  effect,  that  upon  the  return  of  the  verdict  from  the 
bench  of  matrons,  I  issued  out  an  order  forthwith,  "  that  the 
criminal  should  be  stripped  of  her  incumbrances,  until  she  be- 
came little  enough  to  enter  my  house."  I  had  before  given 
directions  for  an  engine  of  several  legs,  that  could  contract  or 
open  itself  like  the  top  of  an  umlrella,  in  order  to  place  the 
petticoat  upon  it,  by  Avhich  means  I  might  take  a  leisurely 
survey  of  it,  as  it  should  appear  in  its  proper  dimensions. 
This  was  all  done  accordingly  ;  and  forthwith,  upon  the 
closing  of  the  engine,  the  petticoat  was  brought  into  court.  I 
then  directed  the  machine  to  be  set  upon  the  table,  and  dilated 
in  such  a  manner  as  to  shew  the  garment  in  its  utmost  cir- 
cumference ;  but  my  great  hall  was  too  narrow  for  the 
experiment  ;  for  before  it  was  half  unfolded,  it  described  so 
immoderate  a  circle,  that  the  lower  part  of  it  brushed  upon  my 
face  as  I  sat  in  my  chair  of  judicature.  I  then  inquired  for 
the  person  that  belonged  to  the  petticoat ;  and,  to  my  great 
surprise,  was  directed  to  a  very  beautiful  young  damsel,  with 
so  pretty  a  face  and  shape,  that  I  bid  her  come  out  of  the 
crowd,  and  seated  her  upon  a  little  crock  at  my  left  hand. 
"  My  pretty  maid,"  said  I,  "do  you  own  yourself  to  have  been 
the  inhabitant  of  the  garment  before  us  ?  "  The  girl,  I  found, 
had  good  sense,  and  told  me  with  a  smile,  that,  "notwith- 
standing it  was  her  own  petticoat,  she  should  be  very  glad  to 
see  an  example  made  of  it  ;  and  that  she  wore  it  for  no  other 
reason,  but  that  she  had  a  mind  to  look  as  big  and  burly  as 
other  persons  of  her  quality  ;  that  she  had  kept  out  of  it  as 
long  as  she  could,  and  until  she  began  to  appear  little  in  the 
eyes  of  her  acquaintance  ;  that,  if  she  laid  it  aside,  people 
would  think  she  was  not  made  like  other  women."  I  always 
give  great  allowances  to  the  fair  sex  upon  account  of  the 
fashion,  and,  therefore,  was  not  displeased  wdth  the  defence  of 


No.  116.]  THE    TETTICOAT.  181 

my  pretty  criminal.  I  then  ordered  the  vest  which  stood 
before  us  to  be  drawn  up  by  a  pulley  to  the  top  of  my  great 
hall,  and  afterwards  to  be  spread  open  by  the  engine  it  was 
placed  upon,  in  such  a  manner,  that  it  formed  a  very  splendid 
and  ample  canopy  over  our  heads,  and  covered  the  whole  court 
of  judicature  with  a  kind  of  silken  rotunda,  in  its  form  not 
unlike  the  cupola  of  Saint  Paul's.  I  entered  upon  the  whole 
cause  wdth  great  satisfaction  as  I  sat  under  the  shadow  of  it. 

The  counsel  for  the  petticoat  were  now  called  in,  and  ordered 
to  produce  what  they  had  to  say  against  the  popular  cry  which 
was  raised  against  it.      They  answered  the  objections  with 
great  strength  and  solidity  of  argument,  and  expatiated  in  very 
florid  harangues,  which  they  did  not  fail  to  set  off  and  furbelow, 
if  I  may  be  allowed  the  metaphor,  with  many  periodical  sen- 
tences and  turns  of  oratory.     The  chief  arguments  for  their 
client  were  taken,  first,  from  the  great  benefit  that  might  arise 
to  our  woollen  manufactory  from  this  invention,  which  was 
calculated  as  follows.     The  common  petticoat  has  not  above 
four  yards  in  the  circumference  ;  whereas  this  over  our  heads 
had  more  in  the  semi-diameter  ;  so  that,  by  allowing  it  twenty- 
four  yards  in  the  circumference,  the  five  millions  of  woollen 
petticoats  which,  according  to  Sir  William  Petty,  supposing 
what  ought  to  be  supposed  in  a  well-governed  state,  that  all 
petticoats  are  made  of  that  stuff,  would  amount  to  thirty  mil- 
lions of  those  of  the  ancient  mode.     A  prodigious  improvement 
of  the  woollen  trade  !  and  what  could  not  fail  to  sink  the  power 
of  France  in  a  few  years. 

To  introduce  the  second  argument,  they  begged  leave  to 
read  a  petition  of  the  ropemakers,  wherein  it  was  represented, 
"  that  the  demand  for  cords,  and  the  price  of  them,  were  much 
risen  since  this  fashion  came  up."  At  this,  all  the  company 
who  were  present  lifted  up  their  eyes  into  the  vault  ;  and  I 
must  confess,  we  did  discover  many  traces  of  cordage,  which 
were  interwoven  in  the  stiffening  of  the  drapery. 

A  third  argument  was  founded  upon  a  petition  of  the  Green- 
land trade,  which  likewise  represented  the  great  consumption 
of  whalebone  which  would  be  occasioned  by  the  present  fashion, 


182  THE    TATLER.  [Xo.  116. 

and  the  benefit  which  would  thereby  accrue  to  that  branch  of 
the  British  trade. 

To  conclude,  they  gently  touched  upon  the  weight  and  un- 
wieldiness  of  the  garment,  which,  they  insinuated,  might  be  of 
great  use  to  preserve  the  honour  of  families. 

These  arguments  would  have  wrought  very  much  upon  me, 
as  I  then  told  the  company  in  a  long  and  elaborate  discourse, 
had  I  not  considered  the  great  and  additional  expense  which 
such  fashions  would  bring  upon  fathers  and  husbands  ;  and, 
therefore,  by  no  means  to  be  thought  of  until  some  years  after 
a  peace.  I  farther  urged,  that  it  would  be  a  prejudice  to  the 
ladies  themselves,  who  could  never  expect  to  have  any  money 
in  the  pocket,  if  they  laid  out  so  much  on  the  petticoat.  To 
this  I  added,  the  great  temptation  it  might  give  to  virgins,  of 
acting  in  security  like  married  w^omen,  and  by  that  means  give 
a  check  to  matrimony,  an  institution  always  encouraged  by  wise 
societies. 

At  the  same  time,  in  answer  to  the  several  petitions  pro- 
duced on  that  side,  I  shewed  one  subscribed  by  the  women  of 
several  persons  of  quality,  humbly  setting  forth,  '^  that,  since 
the  introduction  of  this  mode,  their  respective  ladies  had, 
instead  of  bestowing  on  them  their  cast  gowns,  cut  them  into 
shreds,  and  mixed  them  with  the  cordage  and  buckram,  to 
complete  the  stiffening  of  their  under  petticoats."  For  -which, 
and  sundry  other  reasons,  I  pronounced  the  petticoat  a  for- 
feiture :  but,  to  shew  that  I  did  not  make  that  judgment  for 
the  sake  of  filthy  lucre,  I  ordered  it  to  be  folded  up,  and  sent 
it  as  a  present  to  a  widow-gentlewoman,  w^ho  has  five 
daughters  ;  desiring  she  would  make  each  of  them  a  petticoat 
out  of  it,  and  send  me  back  the  remainder,  which  I  design  to 
cut  into  stomachers,  caps,  facings  of  my  waistcoat-sleeves,  and 
other  garnitures  suitable  to  my  age  and  quality. 

I  would  not  be  understood,  that,  while  I  discard  this  mon- 
strous invention,  I  am  an  enemy  to  the  proper  ornaments  of 
the  fair  sex.  On  the  contrary,  as  the  hand  of  nature  has 
poured  on  them  ^uch  a  profusion  of  charms  and  graces,  and 
sent  them  into  the  world  more  amiable  and  finished  than  the 


No.  117.]         ON    DELIVERANCE    FROM    DANGER.  183 

rest  of  her  works  ;  so  I  would  have  them  bestow  upon  them- 
selves all  the  additional  beauties  that  art  can  supply  them  with, 
provided  it  does  not  interfere  with,  disguise,  or  pervert  those 
of  nature. 

I  consider  woman  as  a  beautiful  romantic  animal,  that  may 
be  adorned  with  furs  and  feathers,  pearls  and  diamonds,  ores 
and  silks.  The  lynx  shall  cast  its  skin  at  her  feet  to  make 
her  a  tippet  ;  the  peacock,  parrot,  and  swan  shall  pay  con- 
tributions to  her  muff;  the  sea  shall  be  searched  for  shells, 
and  the  rocks  for  gems  ;  and  every  part  of  nature  furnish  out 
its  share  towards  the  embellishment  of  a  creature  that  is  the 
most  consummate  work  of  it.  All  this  I  shall  indulge  them 
in  ;  but  as  for  the  petticoat  I  have  been  speaking  of,  I  neither 
can  nor  will  allow  it. 


ON  DELIVERANCE  FROM  DANGER. 

No.  117.     SATURDAY,  January  7,  1709-10.     [Addison.] 

Diirate,  et  vosmet  rebus  servate  secundus. 

YiRG.  ^n.  i.  211. 

Endure  the  hardships  of  j-our  present  state, 
Live,  and  reserve  yourselves  for  better  fate. 

When  I  look  into  the  frame  and  constitution  of  my  own 
mind,  there  is  no  part  of  it  which  I  observe  with  greater 
satisfaction,  than  that  tenderness  and  concern  which  it  bears 
for  the  good  and  happiness  of  mankind.  My  own  circum- 
stances are  indeed  so  narrow  and  scanty,  that  I  should  taste 
but  very  little  pleasure,  could  I  receive  it  only  from  those 
enjoyments  which  are  in  my  own  possession  ;  but  by  this 
great  tincture  of  humanity,  which  I  find  in  all  my  thoughts 
and  reflections,  I  am  happier  than  any  single  person  can  be, 
with  all  the  wealth,  strength,  beauty,  and  success,  that  can 
be  conferred  upon  a  mortal,  if  he  only  relishes  such  a  proper- 


184  THE    TATLER.  [No.  117. 

tion  of  these  blessings  as  is  vested  in  himself,  and  in  his  own 
private  property.  By  this  means,  every  man  that  does  himself 
any  real  service  does  me  a  kindness.  I  come  in  for  my  share 
in  all  the  good  that  happens  to  a  man  of  merit  and  virtue, 
and  partake  of  many  gifts  of  fortune  and  power  that  I  was 
never  born  to.  There  is  nothing  in  particular  in  which  I  so 
much  rejoice  as  the  deliverance  of  good  and  generous  spirits 
out  of  dangers,  difficulties,  and  distresses.  And  because  the 
world  does  not  supply  instances  of  this  kind  to  furnish  out 
sufficient  entertainments  for  such  an  humanity  and  benevo- 
lence of  temper,  I  have  ever  delighted  in  reading  the  history 
of  ages  past,  which  draws  together  into  a  narrow  compass  the 
great  occurrences  and  events  that  are  but  thinly  sown  in  those 
tracts  of  time,  which  lie  within  our  own  knowledge  and 
observation.  When  I  see  the  life  of  a  great  man,  who  has 
deserved  well  of  his  country,  after  having  struggled  through 
all  the  oppositions  of  prejudice  and  envy,  breaking  out  with 
lustre,  and  shining  forth  in  all  the  splendour  of  success,  I 
close  my  book,  and  am  an  happy  man  for  a  whole  evening. 

But  since  in  history  events  are  of  a  mixed  nature,  and  often 
happen  alike  to  the  worthless  and  the  deserving,  insomuch 
that  we  frequently  see  a  virtuous  man  dying  in  the  midst  of 
disappointments  and  calamities,  and  the  vicious  ending  their 
days  in  prosperity  and  peace  ;  I  love  to  amuse  myself  with 
the  accounts  I  meet  with  in  fabulous  histories  and  fictions  : 
for  in  this  kind  of  writing  we  have  always  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  vice  punished,  and  virtue  rewarded.  Indeed,  were  we 
able  to  view  a  man  in  the  whole  circle  of  his  existence,  we 
should  have  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  it  close  with  happiness 
or  misery,  according  to  his  proper  merit :  but  though  our 
view  of  him  is  interrupted  by  death  before  the  finishing  of 
his  adventures,  if  I  may  so  speak,  we  may  be  sure  that  the 
conclusion  and  catastrophe  is  altogether  suitable  to  his  be- 
haviour. On  the  contrary,  the  whole  being  of  a  man,  con- 
sidered as  an  hero  or  a  knight-errant,  is  comprehended  within 
the  limits  of  a  poem  or  romance,  and,  therefore  always  ends 
to  our  satisfaction  ;  so  that  inventions  of  this  kind  are  like 


No.  117.]         OX    DELIVERAXCE    FROM    DAXGER.  186 

food  and  exercise  to  a  good-natured  disposition,  which  they 
please  and  gratify  at  the  same  time  that  they  nourish  and 
strengthen.  The  greater  the  affliction  is  in  wliich  we  see 
our  favourites  in  these  relations  engaged,  the  greater  is  the 
pleasure  we  take  in  seeing  them  relieved. 

Among  the  many  feigned  histories  which  I  have  met  with 
in  my  reading,  there  is  none  in  which  the  hero's  perplexity  is 
greater,  and  the  winding  out  of  it  more  difficult,  than  that  in 
a  French  author  whose  name  I  have  forgot.  It  so  happens, 
that  the  hero's  mistress  was  the  sister  of  his  most  intimate 
friend,  who  for  certain  reasons,  was  given  out  to  be  dead, 
while  he  was  preparing  to  leave  his  country  in  quest  of  ad- 
ventures. The  hero  having  heard  of  his  friend's  death, 
immediately  repaired  to  his  mistress,  to  condole  with  her, 
and  comfort  her.  Upon  his  arrival  in  her  garden,  he  dis- 
covered at  a  distance  a  man  clasped  in  her  arms,  and  embraced 
with  the  most  endearing  tenderness.  "What  should  he  do  ? 
It  did  not  consist  with  the  gentleness  of  a  knight-errant  either 
to  kill  his  mistress,  or  the  man  whom  she  was  pleased  to 
favour.  At  the  same  time,  it  would  have  spoiled  a  romance, 
should  he  have  laid  violent  hands  on  himself.  In  short,  he 
immediately  entered  upon  his  adventures  ;  and  after  a  lono* 
series  of  exploits,  found  out  by  degrees  that  the  person  he  saw 
in  his  mistress's  arms  was  her  own  brother,  taking  leave  of 
her  before  he  left  his  country,  and  the  embrace  she  gave  him 
nothing  else  but  the  affectionate  farewell  of  a  sister  :  so  that 
he  had  at  once  the  two  greatest  satisfactions  that  could  enter 
into  the  heart  of  man,  in  finding  his  friend  alive,  whom  he 
thought  dead ;  and  his  mistress  faithful,  whom  he  had  believed 
inconstant. 

There  are  indeed  some  disasters  so  very  fatal,  that  it  is 
impossible  for  any  accidents  to  rectify  them.  Of  this  kind 
was  that  of  poor  Lucretia  ;  and  yet  we  see  Ovid  has  found 
an  expedient  even  in  this  case.  He  describes  a  beautiful  and 
royal  virgin  walking  on  the  sea-shore,  where  she  was  discovered 
by  Neptune,  and  violated  after  a  long  and  unsuccessful  impor- 
tunity.    To  mitigate  her  sorrow,  he  offers  her  whatever  she 

o  2 


186  THE    TATLER.  [No.  117. 

could  wish  for.  Never  certainly  was  the  wit  of  woman  more 
puzzled  in  finding  out  a  stratagem  to  retrieve  her  honour. 
Had  she  desired  to  be  changed  into  a  stock  or  stone,  a  beast, 
fish,  or  fowl,  she  would  have  been  a  loser  by  it  :  or  had  she 
desired  to  have  been  made  a  sea-nymph,  or  a  goddess,  her 
immortality  would  but  have  perpetuated  her  disgrace.  "  Give 
me,  therefore,"  said  she,  "  such  a  shape  as  may  make  me 
incapable  of  suffering  again  the  like  calamity,  or  of  being 
reproached  for  what  I  have  already  suffered."  To  be  short, 
she  was  turned  into  a  man,  and,  by  that  only  means,  avoided 
the  danger  and  imputation  she  so  much  dreaded. 

I  was  once  myself  in  agonies  of  grief  that  are  unutterable, 
and  in  so  great  a  distraction  of  mind,  that  I  thought  myself 
even  out  of  the  possibility  of  receiving  comfort.  The  occasion 
was  as  follows.  When  I  was  a  youth  in  a  part  of  the  army 
which  was  then  quartered  at  Dover,  I  fell  in  love  with  an 
agreeable  young  woman,  of  a  good  family  in  those  parts,  and 
had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  my  addresses  kindly  received, 
which  occasioned  the  perplexity  I  am  going  to  relate. 

We  were  in  a  calm  evening  diverting  ourselves  upon  the 
top  of  the  cliff  with  the  prospect  of  the  sea,  and  trifling  away 
the  time  in  such  little  fondnesses  as  are  most  ridiculous  to 
people  in  business,  and  most  agreeable  to  those  in  love. 

In  the  midst  of  these  our  innocent  endearments,  she  snatched 
a  paper  of  verses  out  of  my  hand,  and  ran  away  with  them. 
I  was  following  her,  when  on  a  sudden  the  ground,  though  at 
a  considerable  distance  from  the  verge  of  the  precipice,  sunk 
under  her,  and  threw  her  down  from  so  prodigious  an  height 
upon  such  a  range  of  rocks,  as  would  have  dashed  her  into 
ten  thousand  pieces,  had  her  body  been  made  of  adamant.  It 
is  much  easier  for  my  reader  to  imagine  my  state  of  mind 
upon  such  an  occasion,  than  for  me  to  express  it.  I  said  to 
myself,  it  is  not  in  the  power  of  heaven  to  relieve  me  I  when 
I  awaked,  equally  transported  and  astonished,  to  see  myself 
drawn  out  of  an  affliction  which,  the  very  moment  before, 
appeared  to  me  altogether  inextricable. 

The  impressions  of  grief  and  horror  were  so  lively  on  this 


No.  118.]  PENELOPE    PRIM.  187 

occasion,  that  while  they  lasted  they  made  me  more  miserable 
than  I  was  at  the  real  death  of  this  beloved  person,  which 
happened  a  few  months  after,  at  a  time  when  the  match 
between  us  was  concluded  ;  inasmuch  as  the  imaginary  death 
was  untimely,  and  I  myself  in  a  sort  an  accessary  ;  whereas 
her  real  decease  had  at  least  these  alleviations,  of  being  natural 
and  inevitable. 


PENELOPE  PKIM. 

No.  118.    TUESDAY,  Januaky  10,  1709-10.     [Steele.] 

When  I  came  home  this  evening,  a  very  tight  middle-aged 
woman  presented  to  me  the  following  petition  : — 

"  To  the  Worshipful  Isaac  Bickerstaff, 
Esquire,  Censor  of  Glreat  Britain. 

"  The  humble  Petition  of  Penelope  Peix,  Widow, 
"  Sheweth, 

*'  That  your  petitioner  was  bred  a  clear-starcher  and  semp- 
stress, and  for  many  years  worked  to  the  Exchange,  and  to 
several  aldermen's  wives,  lawyers'  clerks,  and  merchants' 
apprentices. 

"That  through  the  scarcity  caused  by  regrators  of  bread 
corn,  of  which  starch  is  made,  and  the  gentry's  immoderate 
frequenting  the  operas,  the  ladies,  to  save  charges,  have  their 
heads  washed  at  home,  and  the  beaux  put  out  their  linen  to 
common  laundresses.  So  that  your  petitioner  has  little  or  no 
work  at  her  trade  :  for  want  of  which,  she  is  reduced  to  such 
necessity,  that  she  and  her  seven  fatherless  children  must 
inevitably  perish,  unless  relieved  by  your  worship. 

"  That  your  petitioner  is  informed,  that  in  contempt  of 
your  judgment  pronounced  on  Tuesday  the  third  instant 
against  the  new-fashioned  petticoat,  or  old-fashioned  fardingal, 


188  THE    TATLER.  [No.  118. 

the  ladies  design  to  go  on  in  that  dress.  And  since  it  is 
presumed  your  worship  will  not  suppress  them  by  force,  your 
petitioner  humbly  desires  you  would  order,  that  ruffs  may  be 
added  to  the  dress  ;  and  that  she  may  be  heard  by  her  counsel, 
who  has  assured  your  petitioner,  he  has  such  cogent  reasons 
to  offer  to  your  court,  that  ruffs  and  fardingals  are  inseparable, 
that  he  questions  not  but  two-thirds  of  the  greatest  beauties 
about  town  will  have  cambric  collars  on  their  necks  before 
the  end  of  Easter  term  next.  He  farther  says,  that  the  design 
of  our  great  grandmothers  in  this  petticoat,  was  to  appear 
much  bigger  than  the  life  ;  for  which  reason  they  had  false 
shoulder-blades,  like  wings,  and  the  ruff  above  mentioned,  to 
make  the  upper  and  lower  parts  of  their  bodies  appear  pro- 
portionable ;  whereas  the  figure  of  a  woman  in  the  present 
dress  bears,  as  he  calls  it,  the  figure  of  a  cone,  which  as  he 
advises,  is  the  same  with  that  of  an  extinguisher,  with  a  little 
knob  at  the  upper  end,  and  widening  downward,  until  it  ends 
in  a  basis  of  a  most  enormous  circumference. 

*'  Your  petitioner,  therefore,  most  humbly  prays,  that  you 
would  restore  the  ruff  to  the  fardingal,  which  in  their  nature 
ought  to  be  as  inseparable  as  the  two  Hungarian  twins.* 

*'  And  your  petitioner  shall  ever  pray." 

I  have  examined  into  the  allegations  of  this  petition,  and 
find,  by  several  antient  pictures  of  my  own  predecessors, 
particularly  that  of  dame  Deborah  Bickerstaff,  my  great  grand- 
mother, that  the  ruff  and  fardingal  are  made  use  of  as  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  preserve  the  symmetry  of  the  figure  ;  and 
Mrs.  Pyramid  Bickerstaff,  her  second  sister,  is  recorded  in 
our  family-book,  with  some  observations  to  her  disadvantage, 
as  the  first  female  of  our  house  that  discovered,  to  any  besides 
her  nurse  and  her  husband,  an  inch  below  her  chin,  or  above 
her   instep.      This    convinces   me   of   the   reasonableness   of 

*  Helen  and  Judith,  two  united  twin-sisters,  were  born  at  Tzoui,  in 
Hungary,  October  26th,  1701  ;  lived  to  the  age  of  twenty-one,  and  died  in  a 
convent  at  Presburgh,  February  23rd^  1723.  These  twins  were  exhibited  at 
a  house  in  the  Strand,  near  Charing  Cross,  in  1708. 


No.  120.]  A    DEEAM    OF    HUMAN    LIFE.  189 

Mrs.  Prim's  demand  ;  and,  therefore,  I  shall  not  allow  the 
reviving  of  any  one  part  of  that  antient  mode,  except  the 
whole  is  complied  with.  Mrs.  Prim,  is  therefore,  hereby 
impowered  to  carry  home  ruffs  to  such  as  she  shall  see  in  the 
above-mentioned  petticoats,  and  require  payment  on  demand. 


A  DEEAM  OF  HUMAN  LIFE. 

No.  120.     SATURDAY,  January  14,  1709-10.    [Addison.] 

Velut  sil-vis,  ubi  passim 

Palantes  error  certo  de  tramite  pellit  ; 
Ille  sinistrorsum,  hie  dextrorsum  abit. 

HoR.  2  Sat.  iii.  48. 

When,  in  a  wood,  we  leave  the  certain  way, 
One  error  fools  us,  though  we  various  stray, 
Rome  to  the  left,  and  some  to  t'other  side. 

Instead  of  considering  any  particular  passion  or  character 
in  any  one  set  of  men,  my  thoughts  were  last  night  employed 
on  the  contemplation  of  human  life  in  general  ;  and  truly  it 
appears  to  me,  that  the  whole  species  are  hurried  on  by  the 
same  desires,  and  engaged  in  the  same  pursuits,  according  to 
the  different  stages  and  divisions  of  life.  Youth  is  devoted  to 
lust,  middle  age  to  ambition,  old  age  to  avarice.  These  are 
the  three  general  motives  and  principles  of  action  both  in 
good  and  bad  men  ;  though  it  must  be  acknowledged,  but  thev 
change  their  names,  and  refine  their  natures,  according  to  the 
temper  of  the  person  whom  they  direct  and  animate.  For  with 
the  good,  lust  becomes  virtuous  love  ;  ambition  true  honour  ; 
and  avarice,  the  care  of  posterity.  This  scheme  of  thought 
amused  me  very  agreeably  until  I  retired  to  rest,  and  after- 
wards formed  itself  into  a  pleasing  and  regular  vision,  which  I 
shall  describe  in  all  its  circumstances,  as  the  objects  presented 
themselves,  whether  in  a  serious  or  ridiculous  manner. 

I  dreamed  that  I  was  in  a  wood,  of  so  prodigious  an  extent 


190  THE    TATLER.  [No.  120. 

and  cut  into  such  a  variety  of  walks  and  alleys,  that  all  man- 
kind were  lost  and  bewildered  in  it.  After  having  wandered 
up  and  down  some  time,  I  came  into  the  centre  of  it,  which 
opened  into  a  wide  plain,  filled  with  multitudes  of  both  sexes. 
I  here  discovered  three  great  roads,  very  wide  and  long,  that 
led  into  three  different  parts  of  the  forest.  On  a  sudden,  the 
whole  multitude  broke  into  three  parts,  according  to  their 
different  ages,  and  marched  in  their  respective  bodies  into  the 
three  great  roads  that  lay  before  them.  As  I  had  a  mind  to 
know  how  each  of  these  roads  terminated,  and  whither  they 
would  lead  those  who  passed  through  them,  I  joined  myself 
with  the  assembly  that  were  in  the  flower  and  vigour  of  their 
age,  and  called  themselves  "  the  band  of  lovers."  I  found,  to 
my  great  surprise,  that  several  old  men  besides  myself  had 
intruded  into  this  agreeable  company  ;  as  I  had  before 
observed,  there  were  some  young  men  who  had  united  them- 
selves to  "  the  band  of  misers,"  and  were  walking  up  the  path 
to  avarice  ;  though  both  made  a  very  ridiculous  figure,  and 
were  as  much  laughed  at  by  those  they  joined,  as  by  those  they 
forsook.  The  walk  which  we  marched  up,  for  thickness  of 
shades,  embroidery  of  flowers,  and  melody  of  birds,  with  the 
distant  purling  of  streams,  and  falls  of  water,  was  so  wonder- 
fully delightful,  that  it  charmed  our  senses,  and  intoxicated 
our  minds  with  pleasure.  We  had  not  been  long  here,  before 
every  man  singled  out  some  woman,  to  whom  he  offered  his 
addresses,  and  professed  himself  a  lover  ;  when  on  a  sudden 
we  perceived  this  delicious  walk  to  grow  more  narrow  as  we 
advanced  nito  it,  until  it  ended  in  many  intricate  thickets, 
mazes,  and  labyrinths,  that  were  so  mixed  with  roses  and 
brambles,  brakes  of  thorns,  and  beds  of  flowers,  rocky  paths, 
and  pleasing  grottos,  that  it  was  hard  to  say,  whether  it  gave 
greater  delight  or  perplexity  to  those  who  travelled  in  it. 

It  was  here  that  the  lovers  began  to  be  eager  in  their  pur- 
suits. Some  of  their  mistresses,  who  only  seemed  to  retire  for 
the  sake  of  form  and  decency,  led  them  into  plantations  that 
were  disposed  into  different  walks;  where,  after  they  had 
wheeled  about  in  some  turns  and  windings,  they  suffered  them- 


No.  120.]  A    DREAM    OF    HUMAN    LIFE.  191 

selves  to  be  overtaken,  and  gave  tlieir  hands  to  those  who 
pursued  them.  Others  withdrew  from  their  followers,  into 
little  wildernesses,  where  there  were  so  many  paths  interwoven 
with  each  other  in  so  much  confusion  and  irregularity,  that 
several  of  the  lovers  quitted  the  pursuit,  or  broke  their  hearts 
in  the  chase.  It  was  sometimes  very  odd  to  see  a  man  pur- 
suing a  fine  woman  that  was  following  another,  whose  eye  was 
fixed  upon  a  fourth,  that  had  her  own  game  in  view  in  some 
other  part  of  the  wilderness.  I  could  not  but  observe  two 
things  in  this  place  which  I  thought  very  particular.  That 
several  persons,  who  stood  only  at  the  end  of  the  avenues,  and 
cast  a  careless  eye  upon  the  nymphs  during  their  whole  flight, 
often  catched  them  ;  when  those  who  pressed  them  the  most 
warmly,  through  all  their  turns  and  doubles,  were  wholly  un- 
successful :  and  that  some  of  my  own  age,  who  were  at  first 
looked  upon  with  aversion  and  contempt,  by  being  well 
acquainted  with  the  wilderness,  and  by  dodging  their  women  in 
the  particular  corners  and  alleys  of  it,  catched  them  in  their  arms, 
and  took  them  fi'om  those  whom  they  really  loved  and  admired. 
There  was  a  particular  grove,  which  was  called  "  the  labyrinth 
of  coquettes  :  "  where  many  were  enticed  to  the  chase,  but  few 
returned  with  purchase.  It  was  pleasant  enough  to  see  a  cele- 
brated beauty,  by  smiling  upon  one,  casting  a  glance  upon  another, 
beckoning  to  a  third,  and  adapting  her  charms  and  graces  to 
the  several  follies  of  those  that  admired  her,  drawing  into  the 
labyrinth  a  whole  pack  of  lovers,  that  lost  themselves  in  the 
maze,  and  never  could  find  their  way  out  of  it.  However,  it 
was  some  satisfaction  to  me,  to  see  many  of  the  fair  ones,  who 
had  thus  deluded  their  followers,  and  left  them  amono"  the 
intricacies  of  the  labyrinth,  obliged,  when  they  came  out  of  it, 
to  surrender  to  the  first  partner  that  offered  himself.  I  now 
had  crossed  over  all  the  difficult  and  perplexed  passages  that 
seemed  to  bound  our  walk,  when  on  the  other  side  of  them  I 
saw  the  same  great  road  running  on  a  little  way  until  it  was 
terminated  by  two  beautiful  temples.  I  stood  here  for  some 
time,  and  saw  most  of  the  multitude  who  had  been  dispersed 
amongst  the  thickets,  coming  out  two  by  two,  and  marching 


192  THE    TATLER.  [No   120. 

up  in  pairs  towards  the  temples  that  stood  befuie  us.  The 
structure  on  the  right  hand  was,  as  I  afterwards  found,  conse- 
crated to  virtuous  love,  and  could  not  be  entered  but  by  such 
as  received  a  ring,  or  some  other  token,  from  a  person  who 
was  placed  as  a  guard  at  the  gate  of  it.  He  wore  a  garland  of 
roses  and  myrtles  on  his  head,  and  on  his  shoulders  a  robe 
like  an  imperial  mantle,  white  and  unspotted  all  over,  except- 
ing only,  that  where  it  was  clasped  at  his  breast,  there  were 
two  golden  turtle-doves  that  buttoned  it  by  their  bills,  which 
were  wrought  in  rubies.  He  was  called  by  the  name  of 
Hymen,  and  was  seated  near  the  entrance  of  the  temple,  in  a 
delicious  bower,  made  up  of  several  trees,  that  were  embraced 
by  woodbines,  jasmines,  and  amaranths,  which  were  as  so  many 
emblems  of  marriage,  and  ornaments  to  the  trunks  that  sup- 
ported them.  As  I  was  single  and  unaccompanied,  I  was  not 
permitted  to  enter  the  temple,  and  for  that  reason  am  a 
stranger  to  all  the  mysteries  that  were  performed  in  it. 

I  had,  however,  the  curiosity  to  observe  how  the  several 
couples  that  entered  were  disposed  of ;  which  was  after  the 
following  manner.  There  were  two  great  gates  on  the  backside 
of  the  edifice,  at  which  the  whole  crowd  was  let  out.  At  one 
of  these  gates  were  two  women,  extremely  beautiful  though  in  a 
different  kind,  the  one  having  a  very  careful  and  composed 
air,  the  other  a  sort  of  smile  and  ineffable  sweetness  in  her 
countenance.  The  name  of  the  first  was  Discretion,  and  of 
the  other  Complacency.  All  who  came  out  of  this  gate,  and 
put  themselves  under  the  direction  of  these  two  sisters,  were 
immediately  conducted  by  them  into  gardens,  groves,  and 
meadows,  which  abounded  in  delights,  and  were  furnished 
with  everything  that  could  make  them  the  proper  seats  of 
happiness.  The  second  gate  of  this  temple  let  out  all  the 
couples  that  were  unhappily  married,  who  came  out  linked 
together  with  chains,  which  each  of  them  strove  to  break,  but 
could  not.  Several  of  these  were  such  as  had  never  been 
acquainted  with  each  other  before  they  met  in  the  great  walk, 
or  had  been  too  well  acquainted  in  the  thicket.  The  entrance 
to  this  gate  was  possessed  by  three  sisters,  who  joined  them- 


No.  120.]  A    DREAM    OF    HUMAN    LIFE.  193 

selves  with  these  wretches,  and  occasioned  most  of  their 
miseries.  The  youngest  of  these  sisters  was  known  by  the 
name  of  Levity,  who,  with  the  innocence  of  a  virgin,  had  the 
dress  and  behaviour  of  a  harlot.  The  name  of  the  second  was 
Contention,  who  bore  on  her  right  arm  a  muff  made  of  the 
skin  of  a  porcupine  ;  and  on  her  left  carried  a  little  lap  dog, 
that  barked  and  snapped  at  every  one  that  passed  by  her. 

The  eldest  of  the  sisters,  w^ho  seemed  to  have  an  haughty 
and  imperious  air,  was  always  accompanied  with  a  tawny 
Cupid,  who  generally  marched  before  her  with  a  little  mace  on 
his  shoulder,  the  end  of  which  was  fashioned  into  the  horns  of 
a  stag.  Her  garments  were  yellow,  and  her  complexion  pale. 
Her  eyes  were  piercing,  but  had  odd  casts  in  them,  and  that 
particular  distemper,  which  makes  persons  who  are  troubled 
with  it,  see  objects  double.  Upon  inquiry,  I  was  informed 
that  her  name  was  Jealousy. 

Having  finished  my  observations  upon  this  temple  and  its 
votaries,  I  repaired  to  that  which  stood  on  the  left  hand,  and 
was  called  "the  temple  of  lust."  The  front  of  it  was  raised 
on  Corinthian  pillars,  with  all  the  meretricious  ornaments  that 
accompany  that  order  ;  whereas  that  of  the  other  was  com- 
posed of  the  chaste  and  matron-like  Ionic.  The  sides  of  it 
were  adorned  with  several  grotesque  figures  of  goats,  sparrows, 
heathen  gods,  satyrs,  and  monsters  made  up  of  half  man  half 
beast.  The  gates  were  unguarded,  and  open  to  all  that  had  a 
mind  to  enter.  Upon  my  going  in,  I  found  the  windows  were 
blinded,  and  let  in  only  a  kind  of  twilight,  that  served  to  dis- 
cover a  prodigious  number  of  dark  corners  and  apartments, 
into  wliich  the  whole  temple  was  divided.  I  was  here  stunned 
with  a  mixed  noise  of  clamour  and  jollity.  On  one  side  of  me 
I  heard  singing  and  dancing  ;  on  the  other  brawls  and  clashing 
of  swords.  In  short,  I  was  so  little  pleased  with  the  place, 
that  I  was  going  out  of  it ;  but  found  I  could  not  return  by 
the  gate  where  I  entered,  which  was  barred  against  all  that 
were  come  in,  with  bolts  of  iron,  and  locks  of  adamant.  There 
was  no  going  back  from  this  temple  through  the  paths  of 
pleasure  which  led  to  it.     All  who  passed  through  the  cere- 


194  THE    TATLER.  [No.  121. 

monies  of  the  place,  went  out  at  an  iron  wicket,  which  was 
kept  by  a  dreadful  giant,  called  Remorse,  that  held  a  scourge 
of  scorpions  in  his  hand,  and  drove  them  into  the  only  outlet 
from  that  temple.  This  was  a  passage  so  rugged,  bo  uneven, 
and  choked  with  so  many  thorns  and  briars,  that  it  was  a 
melancholy  spectacle  to  behold  the  pains  and  difficulties  which 
both  sexes  suffered  who  walked  through  it.  The  men,  though 
in  the  prime  of  their  youth,  appeared  weak  and  enfeebled  with 
old  age.  The  women  wrung  their  hands,  and  tore  their  hair ; 
and  several  lost  their  limbs  before  they  could  extricate  them- 
selves out  of  the  perplexities  of  the  path  in  which  they  were 
engaged.  The  remaining  part  of  this  vision,  and  the  adven- 
tures I  met  with  in  the  two  great  roads  of  Ambition  and 
Avarice,  must  be  the  subject  of  another  Paper. 


PETS. 

No.  121.    TUESDAY,  January   17,  1709-10.     [Addison.] 

Similis  tibi,  Cynthia,  vel  tibi,  cujus 


Turbavit  nitidos  extinctus  passer  ocellos, 

Juv,  Sat.  vi.  7. 

Like  Cynthia,  oi*  the  Lesbias  of  our  years, 
Who  for  a  sparrow's  death  dissolve  in  tears. 

I  WAS  recollecting  the  remainder  of  my  vision,  when  my 
maid  came  to  me,  and  told  me  "  there  was  a  gentlewoman  below 
who  seemed  to  be  in  great  trouble,  and  pressed  very  much  to 
see  me."  When  it  lay  in  my  power  to  remove  the  distress  of 
an  unhappy  person,  I  thought  I  should  very  ill  employ  my 
time  in  attending  to  matters  of  speculation,  and  therefore 
desired  the  lady  would  walk  in.  When  she  entered,  I  saw  her 
eyes  full  of  tears.  However,  her  grief  was  not  so  great  as  to 
make  her  omit  rules  ;  for  she  was  very  long  and  exact  in  her 
civilities,  which  gave  me  time  to  view  and  consider  her.     Her 


No.  121.]  PETS,  195 

cloaths  were  very  rich,  but  tarnished  ;  and  her  words  very  fine, 
but  ill  applied.  These  distinctions  made  me,  without  hesita- 
tion, though  I  had  never  seen  her  before,  ask  her,  "  if  her  lady 
had  any  commands  for  me  ?  "  She  then  began  to  weep  afresh, 
and  with  many  broken  sighs  told  me,  "  that  their  family  was  in 
great  affliction." — I  beseeched  her  ''to  compose  herself,  for 
that  I  might  possibly  be  capable. of  assisting  them." — She  then 
cast  her  eye  upon  my  little  dog,  and  was  again  transported 
with  too  much  passion  to  proceed  ;  but,  with  much  ado,  she  at 
last  gave  me  to  understand,  "  that  Cupid,  her  lady's  lap-dog, 
was  dangerously  ill,  and  in  so  bad  a  condition,  that  her  lady 
neither  saw  company,  nor  went  abroad,  for  which  reason  she 
did  not  come  herself  to  consult  me  ;  that,  as  I  had  mentioned 
with  great  affection  my  own  dog,"  (here  she  courtesied,  and 
looking  first  at  the  cur,  and  then  on  me,  said,  "indeed  I  had 
reason,  for  he  was  very  pretty)  her  lady  sent  to  me  rather  than 
to  any  other  doctor,  and  hoped  I  would  not  laugh  at  her 
sorrow,  but  send  her  my  advice." 

I  must  confess,  I  had  some  indignation  to  find  myself  treated 
like  something  below  a  farrier  ;  yet  well  knowing  that  the  best, 
as  well  as  most  tender  way  of  dealing  with  a  woman,  is  to  fall 
in  with  her  humours,  and  by  that  means  to  let  her  see  the 
absurdity  of  them  ;  I  proceeded  accordingly.  "  Pray,  madam," 
said  I,  "  can  you  give  me  any  methodical  account  of  this  illness, 
and  how  Cupid  was  first  taken  ?  "  "  Sir,"  said  she,  "  we  have  a 
little  ignorant  country  girl,  who  is  kept  to  tend  him  ;  she  was 
recommended  to  our  family  by  one  that  my  lady  never  saw  but 
once,  at  a  visit  ;  and  you  know,  persons  of  quality  are  always 
inclined  to  strangers  ;  for  I  could  have  helped  her  to  a  cousin  of 
my  own,  but" — "  Good  madam,"  said  I,  "you  neglect  the  account 
of  the  sick  body,  while  you  are  complaining  of  this  girl." — "  No, 
no,  sir,"  said  she,  ''  begging  your  pardon  :  but  it  is  the  general 
fault  of  physicians,  they  are  so  in  haste,  that  they  never  hear 
out  the  case.  I  say,  this  silly  girl,  after  washing  Cupid,  let 
him  stand  half  an  hour  in  the  window  without  his  collar, 
where  he  catched  cold,  and  in  an  hour  after,  began  to  bark 
very  hoarse.     He  had,  however,  a  pretty  good  night,  and  we 


196  THE    TATLER.  [No.  121. 

hoped  the  danger  was  over  ;  but  for  these  two  nights  last  past, 
neither  he  nor  my  lady  have  slept  a  wink."  "  Has  he,"  said 
I,  "  taken  anything  ?  "  "No,"  said  she  ;  "  but  my  lady  says, 
he  shall  take  anything  that  you  prescribe,  provided  you  do  not 
make  use  of  Jesuit's  Foivder,  or  the  cold  lath.  Poor  Cupid," 
continued  she,  "  has  always  been  phthisical  ;  and  as  he  lies 
under  something  like  a  chin-cough,  we  are  afraid  it  will  end  in 
a  consumption. 

Upon  this,  I  paused  a  little  without  returning  any  answer, 
and  after  some  short  silence,  I  proceeded  in  the  following  manner: 
"  I  have  considered  the  nature  of  the  distemper,  and  the  con- 
stitution of  the  patient  ;  and  by  the  best  observation  that  I  can 
make  on  both,  I  think  it  is  safest  to  put  him  into  a  course  of  kitchen 
physic.  In  the  meantime,  to  remove  his  hoarseness,  it  will  be 
the  most  natural  way  to  make  Cupid  his  own  druggist ;  for  which 
reason  I  shall  prescribe  to  him,  three  mornings  successively,  as 
much  powder  as  will  lie  on  a  groat,  of  that  noble  remedy  which 
the  apothecaries  call  Album  GrcBcum.'*  Upon  hearing  this 
advice,  the  young  woman  smiled,  as  if  she  knew  how  ridiculous 
an  errand  she  had  been  employed  in  ;  and  I  found  by  the  sequel 
of  her  discourse,  that  she  was  an  arch  baggage,  and  of  a 
character  that  is  frequent  enough  in  persons  of  her  employ- 
ment ;  who  are  so  used  to  concern  themselves  in  everything  to 
the  humours  and  passions  of  their  mistresses,  that  they  sacrifice 
superiority  of  sense  to  superiority  of  condition,  and  are  in- 
sensibly betrayed  into  the  passions  and  prejudices  of  those 
whom  they  serve,  without  giving  themselves  leave  to  consider 
that  they  are  extravagant  and  ridiculous.  However,  I  thought 
it  very  natural,  when  her  eyes  were  thus  open,  to  see  her  give  a 
new  turn  to  her  discourse,  and  from  sympathising  with  her 
mistress  in  her  follies,  to  fall  a-railing  at  her.  ''You  cannot 
Imagine,"  said  she,  "Mr.  Bickerstafi",  what  a  life  she  makes  us 
lead,  for  the  sake  of  this  little  ugly  cur.  If  he  dies,  we  are  the 
most  unhappy  family  in  town.  She  chanced  to  lose  a  parrot 
last  year,  which,  to  tell  you  truly,  brought  me  into  her  service  ; 
for  she  turned  off  her  woman  upon  it,  who  had  lived  with  her 
ten  years,  because  she  neglected  to  give  him  water,  though 


No.  121.]  TETS.  197 

every  one  of  the  family  says  she  was  innocent  of  the  bird's 
death,  as  the  babe  that  is  unborn  ;  nay,  she  told  me  this 
very  morning,  that  if  Capid  should  die,  she  would  send  the 
poor  innocent  wench  I  was  telling  you  of  to  Bridewell,  and 
have  the  milk-woman  tried  for  her  life  at  the  Old  Bailey,  for 
putting  water  into  his  milk.  In  short,  she  talks  like  any 
distracted  creature." 

"  Since  it  is  so,  young  woman,"  said  I,  "  I  will  by  no  means 
let  you  offend  her,  by  staying  on  this  message  longer  than  is 
absolutely  necessary  ;  "  and  so  forced  her  out. 

While  I  am  studying  to  cure  those  evils  and  distresses  that 
are  necessary  or  natural  to  human  life,  I  find  my  task  growing 
upon  me,  since  by  these  accidental  cares,  and  acquired  cala- 
mities, if  I  may  so  call  them,  my  patients  contract  distempers 
to  which  their  constitution  is  of  itself  a  stranger.  But  this  is 
an  evil  I  have  for  many  years  remarked  in  the  fair  sex  ;  and  as 
they  are  by  nature  very  much  formed  for  affection  and  dalli- 
ance, I  have  observed,  that  when  by  too  obstinate  a  cruelty,  or 
any  other  means,  they  have  disappointed  themselves  of  the 
proper  objects  of  love,  as  husbands,  or  children,  such  virgins 
have,  exactly  at  such  a  year,  grown  fond  of  lap-dogs,  parrots  or 
other  animals.  I  know  at  this  time  a  celebrated  toast,  whom 
I  allow  to  be  one  of  the  most  agreeable  of  her  sex,  that,  in  the 
presence  of  her  admirers,  will  give  a  torrent  of  kisses  to  her 
cat,  any  one  of  which  a  Christian  would  be  glad  of.  I  do  not 
at  the  same  time  deny,  but  there  are  as  great  enormities  of  this 
kind  committed  by  our  sex  as  theirs.  A  Roman  emperor  had 
so  very  great  an  esteem  for  an  horse  of  his,  that  he  had  thought 
of  making  him  a  Co7isul ;  and  several  moderns  of  that  rank  of 
men  whom  we  call  Country  Esquires,  would  not  scruple  to  kiss 
their  hounds  before  all  the  world,  and  declare  in  the  presence 
of  their  wives,  that  they  would  rather  salute  a  favourite  of  the 
pack,  than  the  finest  woman  in  England.  These  voluntary 
friendships,  between  animals  of  different  species,  seem  to  arise 
from  instinct ;  for  which  reason,  I  have  always  looked  upon 
the  mutual  goodwill  between  the  esquire  and  the  hound,  to  be 
of  the  same  nature  with  that  between  the  lion  and  the  jackall. 


198  THE    TATLER.  [No.  123. 

The  only  extravagance  of  this  kind  which  appears  to  me 
excusable,  is  one  that  grew  out  of  an  excess  of  gratitude,  which 
I  have  somewhere  met  with  in  the  life  of  a  Turkish  emperor. 
His  horse  had  brought  him  safe  out  of  a  field  of  battle,  and 
from  the  pursuit  of  a  victorious  enemy.  As  a  reward  for  such 
his  good  and  faithful  service,  his  master  built  him  a  stable  of 
marble,  shod  him  with  gold,  fed  him  in  an  ivory  manger,  and 
made  him  a  rack  of  silver.  He  annexed  to  the  stable  several 
fields  and  meadows,  lakes  and  running  streams.  At  the  same 
time  he  provided  for  him  a  seraglio  of  mares,  the  most  beauti- 
ful that  could  be  found  in  the  whole  Ottoman  empire.  To 
these  were  added  a  suitable  train  of  domestics,  consisting  of 
grooms,  farriers,  rubbers,  &c,,  accommodated  with  proper  liveries 
and  pensions.  In  short,  nothing  was  omitted  that  could  con- 
tribute to  the  ease  and  happiness  of  his  life,  who  had  preserved 
the  emperor's. 


CONTINUATION    OF 

THE  DEE  AM  OF  HUMAN  LIFE. 

No.  123.     SATURDAY,  January  21,  1709-10.    [Addison.] 

Audire,  atqiie  togam  jubeo  componere,  quisquis 
Ambitione  mala,  aut  argenti  pallet  amore. 

HoR.  2  Sat.  iii.  77. 

Come  all,  whose  breasts  witli  bad  ambition  rise, 

Or  the  pale  passion,  that  for  money  dies, 

Compose  your  robes . 

With  much  labour  and  dilficulty  I  passed  through  the  first 
part  of  my  vision,  and  recovered  the  centre  of  the  wood  from 
whence  I  had  the  prospect  of  the  three  great  roads.  I  here 
joined  myself  to  the  middle-aged  party  of  mankind,  who 
marched  behind  the  standard  of  Ambition.  The  great  road  lay 
in  a  direct  line,  and  was  terminated  by  the  "  Temple  of  Virtue." 
It  was  planted  on  each  side  with  laurels,  which  were  inter- 
mixed with  marble  trophies,  carved  pillars,  and  statues  of  law- 


No.  123.]    CONTIXUATION   OF   DREAM   OF    HUMAN   LIFE.     199 

givers,  heroes,  statesmen,  philosophers,  and  poets.  The  persons 
who  travelled  up  this  great  path  were  such  whose  thoughts  were 
bent  upon  doing  eminent  services  to  mankind,  or  promoting 
the  good  of  their  country.  On  each  side  of  this  great  road 
were  several  paths,  that  were  also  laid  out  in  strait  lines,  and 
ran  parallelled  with  it.  These  were  most  of  them  covered  walks, 
and  received  into  them  men  of  retired  virtue,  who  proposed  to 
themselves  the  same  end  of  their  journey,  though  they  chose  to 
make  it  in  shade  and  obscurity.  The  edifices  at  the  extremity 
of  the  walk  were  so  contrived,  that  we  could  not  see  the 
*' Temple  of  Honour"  by  reason  of  the  "Temple  of  Virtue," 
which  stood  before  it.  At  the  gates  of  this  temple  we  were 
met  by  the  goddess  of  it,  who  conducted  us  into  that  of 
Honour,  which  was  joined  to  the  other  edifice  by  a  beautiful 
triumphal  arch,  and  had  no  other  entrance  into  it.  When  the 
deity  of  the  inner  structure  had  received  us,  she  presented  us 
in  a  body  to  a  figure  that  was  placed  over  the  high-altar,  and 
was  the  emblem  of  eternity.  She  sat  on  a  globe  in  the  midst 
of  a  golden  zodiac,  holding  the  figure  of  a  sun  in  one  hand, 
and  a  moon  in  the  other.  Her  head  was  veiled,  and  her  feet 
covered.  Our  hearts  glowed  within  us,  as  we  stood  amidst  the 
sphere  of  light  which  this  image  cast  on  every  side  of  it. 

Having  seen  all  that  happened  to  this  band  of  adventurers, 
I  repaired  to  another  pile  of  building  that  stood  within  view 
of  the  "  Temple  of  Honour,"  and  was  raised  in  imitation  of 
it,  upon  the  very  same  model  ;  but  at  my  approach  to  it,  I 
found,  that  the  stones  w^ere  laid  together  without  mortar,  and 
that  the  whole  fabric  stood  upon  so  weak  a  foundation,  tliat  it 
shook  with  every  wind  that  blew.  This  was  called  the 
*'  Temple  of  Vanity."  The  goddess  of  it  sat  in  the  midst  of 
a  great  many  tapers,  that  burned  day  and  night,  and  made  her 
appear  much  better  than  she  would  have  done  in  open  day- 
light. Her  whole  art  was,  to  shew  herself  more  beautiful  and 
majestic  than  she  really  was.  For  which  reason  she  had 
painted  her  face,  and  wore  a  cluster  of  false  jewels  upon  her 
breast  :  but  what  I  more  particularly  observed  was,  the  breadth 
of  her  petticoat,  which  was  made  altogether  in  the  fashion  of  a 


200  THE    TATLER.  [No.  123. 

modern  fardmgal.  This  place  was  filled  with  hypocrites, 
pedants,  free-thinkers,  and  prating  politicians  ;  with  a  rabble 
of  those  who  have  only  titles  to  make  them  great  men.  Female 
votaries  crowded  the  temple,  choked  up  the  avenues  of  it,  and 
were  more  in  number  than  the  sand  upon  the  sea-shore.  I 
made  it  my  business,  in  my  return  towards  that  part  of  the 
wood  from  whence  I  first  set  out,  to  observe  the  walk  which 
led  to  this  temple ;  for  I  met  in  it  several  who  had.  begun 
their  journey  with  the  band  of  virtuous  persons,  and  travelled 
some  time  in  their  company  :  but  upon  examination  I  found, 
that  there  were  several  paths  which  led  out  of  the  great  road 
into  the  sides  of  the  wood,  and  ran  into  so  many  crooked  turns 
and  windings,  that  those  who  travelled  through  them,  often 
turned  their  backs  upon  the  "  Temple  of  Virtue  ;  "  then  crossed 
the  strait  road,  and  sometimes  marched  in  it  for  a  little  space, 
until  the  crooked  path  which  they  were  engaged  in,  again  led 
them  into  the  wood.  The  several  alleys  of  these  wanderers 
had  their  particular  ornaments.  One  of  them  I  could  not  but 
take  notice  of  in  the  walk  of  the  mischievous  pretenders  to 
politics,  which  had  at  every  turn  the  figure  of  a  person,  whom 
by  the  inscription  I  found  to  be  Machiavel,  pointing  out  the 
way  with  an  extended  finger,  like  a  Mercury. 

I  was  now  returned  in  the  same  manner  as  before,  with  a 
design  to  observe  carefully  every  thing  that  passed  in  the  region 
of  Avarice,  and  the  occurrences  in  that  assembly,  which  was 
made  up  of  persons  of  my  own  age.  This  body  of  travellers 
had  not  gone  far  in  the  third  great  road,  before  it  led  them 
insensibly  into  a  deep  valley,  in  which  they  journeyed  several 
days  with  great  toil  and  uneasiness,  and  without  the  necessary 
refreshments  of  food  and  sleep.  The  only  relief  they  met  with, 
was  in  a  river  that  ran  through  the  bottom  of  the  valley  on  a 
bed  of  golden  sand.  They  often  drank  of  this  stream,  which 
had  such  a  particular  quality  in  it,  that  though  it  refreshed 
them  for  a  time,  it  rather  inflamed  than  quenched  their  thirst. 
On  each  side  of  the  river  was  a  range  of  hills  full  of  precious 
ore  ;  for  where  the  rains  had  washed  off  the  earth,  one  might 
see  in  several  parts  of  them  long  veins  of  gold,  and  rocks  that 


No.  123.]    CONTINUATION   OF   DREAM    OF   HUMAN   LIFE.    201 

looked  like  pure  silver.  We  were  told,  that  the  deity  of  the 
place  had  forbidden  any  of  his  votaries  to  dig  into  the  bowels 
of  these  hills,  or  convert  the  treasures  they  contained  to  any 
use,  under  pain  of  starving.  At  the  end  of  the  valley  stood 
the  *'  Temple  of  Avarice,"  made  after  the  manner  of  a  fortifi- 
cation, and  surrounded  with  a  thousand  triple-headed  dogs, 
that  were  placed  there  to  keep  off"  beggars.  At  our  approach, 
they  all  fell  a  barking,  and  would  have  very  much  terrified  us, 
had  not  an  old  woman,  who  called  herself  by  the  forged  name 
of  Competency,  offered  herself  for  our  guide.  She  carried 
under  her  garment  a  golden  bough,  which  she  no  sooner  held 
up  in  her  hand,  but  the  dogs  lay  down,  and  the  gates  flew 
open  for  our  reception.  We  were  led  through  an  hundred 
iron  doors  before  we  entered  the  temple.  At  the  upper  end  of 
it  sat  the  god  of  Avarice,  with  a  long  filthy  beard,  and  a 
meagre  starved  countenance  ;  inclosed  with  heaps  of  ingots,  and 
pyramids  of  money,  but  half  naked  and  shivering  with  cold. 
On  his  right  hand  was  a  fiend  called  Rapine,  and  on  his  left 
a  particular  favourite,  to  whom  he  had  given  the  title  of  Par- 
simony. The  first  was  his  collector,  and  the  other  his  cashier. 
There  were  several  long  tables  placed  on  each  side  of  the 
temple,  with  respective  ofi&cers  attending  behind  them.  Some 
of  these  I  inquired  into.  At  the  first  table  was  kept  the 
"  Office  of  Corruption."  Seeing  a  solicitor  extremely  busy,  and 
whispering  every  body  that  passed  by  ;  I  kept  my  eye  upon 
him  very  attentively,  and  saw  him  often  going  up  to  a  person 
that  had  a  pen  in  his  hand,  with  a  multiplication  table  and  an 
almanack  before  him,  which,  as  I  afterwards  heard,  was  all  the 
learning  he  was  master  of.  The  solicitor  would  often  apply 
himself  to  his  ear,  and  at  the  same  time  convey  money  into  his 
hand,  for  which  the  other  would  give  him  out  a  piece  of  paper 
or  parchment,  signed  and  sealed  in  form.  The  name  of  this 
dexterous  and  successful  solicitor  was  Bribery.  At  the  next 
table  was  the  "  Office  of  Extortion."  Behind  it  sat  a  person  in 
a  bob-wig,  counting  over  great  sums  of  money.  He  gave  out 
little  purses  to  several ;  who  after  a  short  tour  brought  him,  in 
return,  sacks  full  of  the  same  kind  of  coin.     I  saw  at  the  same 

r  2 


202  THE    TATLER.  [No.  123. 

time  a  person  called  Fraud,  who  sat  behind  a  counter  with 
false  scales,  light  weights,  and  scanty  measures  ;  by  the  skilful 
application  of  which  instruments,  she  had  got  together  an 
immense  heap  of  wealth.  It  would  be  endless  to  name  the 
several  officers,  or  describe  the  votaries  that  attend  this  temple. 
There  were  many  old  men  panting  and  breathless,  reposing 
their  heads  on  bags  of  money ;  nay,  many  of  them  actually 
dying,  whose  very  pangs  and  convulsions,  which  rendered  their 
purses  useless  to  them,  only  made  them  grasp  them  the  faster. 
There  were  some  tearing  with  one  hand  all  things,  even  to  the 
garments  and  flesh  of  many  miserable  persons  who  stood  before 
them  ;  and  with  the  other  hand,  throwing  away  what  they  had 
seized,  to  harlots,  flatterers,  and  panders,  that  stood  behind 
them. 

On  a  sudden  the  whole  assembly  fell  a  trembling  ;  and  upon 
inquiry,  I  found  that  the  great  room  we  were  in  was  haunted 
with  a  spectre,  that  many  times  a  day  appeared  to  them,  and 
terrified  them  to  distraction. 

In  the  midst  of  their  terror  and  amazement,  the  apparition 
entered,  which  I  immediately  knew  to  be  Poverty.  Whether 
it  were  by  my  acquaintance  with  this  phantom,  which  had 
rendered  the  sight  of  her  more  familiar  to  me,  or  however  it 
was,  she  did  not  make  so  indigent  or  frightful  a  figure  in  my 
eye,  as  the  god  of  this  loathsome  temple.  The  miserable 
votaries  of  this  place  were,  I  found,  of  another  mind.  Every 
one  fancied  himself  threatened  by  the  apparition  as  she  stalked 
about  the  room,  and  began  to  lock  their  coffers,  and  tie  their 
bags,  with  the  utmost  fear  and  trembling. 

I  must  confess,  I  look  upon  the  passion  which  I  saw  in  this 
unhappy  people,  to  be  of  the  same  nature  with  those  unaccount- 
able antipathies  which  some  persons  are  born  with,  or  rather 
as  a  kind  of  phrenzy,  not  unlike  that  which  throws  a  man  into 
terrors  and  agonies,  at  the  sight  of  so  useful  and  innocent  a 
thing  as  water.  The  whole  assembly  was  surprised,  when, 
instead  of  paying  my  devotions  to  the  deity  whom  they  all 
adored,  they  saw  me  address  myself  to  the  phantom. 

"  0  Poverty  ! "  said  I,  **  my  first  petition  to  thee  is,  that  thou 


No.  124.]  A    WHEEL    OF    CHANCE.  203 

wouldest  never  appear  to  me  hereafter  ;  but  if  thou  wilt  not 
grant  me  this,  that  then  thou  wouldest  not  bear  a  form  more 
terrible  than  that  in  which  thou  appearest  to  me  at  present. 
Let  not  thy  threats  and  menaces  betray  me  to  anything  that  is 
ungrateful,  or  unjust.  Let  me  not  shut  my  ears  to  the  cries 
of  the  needy.  Let  me  not  forget  the  person  that  has  deserved 
well  of  me.  Let  me  not,  for  any  fear  of  thee,  desert  my  friend, 
my  principles,  or  my  honour.  If  Wealth  is  to  visit  me,  and  to 
come  with  her  usual  attendants,  Vanity  and  Avarice,  do  thou, 
O  Poverty  I  hasten  to  my  rescue  ;  but  bring  along  with  thee 
the  two  sisters,  in  whose  company  thou  art  always  cheerful 
Liberty  and  Innocence." 


A  WHEEL  OF  CHANCE. 

No.  124.    TUESDAY,  Jajn^uary  24,  1709-10     [Steele.] 

Ex  humili  summa  ad  fastigia  rerum 


Extollit,  quoties  voluit  Fortuna  jocari. 

Juv.  Sat.  iii.  39. 

Fortune  can,  for  her  i^leasure,  fools  advance, 
And  toss  them  on  the  wheels  of  Chance. 

I  WENT  on  Saturday  last  to  make  a  visit  in  the  city  ;  and  as 
I  passed  through  Cheapside,  I  saw  crowds  of  people  turning 
down  towards  the  Bank,  and  struggling  who  should  firstget  their 
money  into  the  neiv-eredecl  lottery.  *  It  gave  me  a  great  notion 
of  the  credit  of  our  present  government  and  administration,  to 
find  people  press  as  eagerly  to  pay  money,  as  they  would  to 
receive  it ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  a  due  respect  for  that  body 

*  The  words  of  Steele  seem  to  imply,  that  this  was  the  first  public  lottery. 
The  earliest  lottery  however  was  in  1569,  consisting  of  40,000  lots,  at  10s. 
each  lot.  The  prizes  M-ere  plate,  and  the  profits  were  to  go  towards  repairing 
the  havens  of  the  kingdom.  It  was  drawn  at  the  west-door  of  St.  Paul's 
Cathedral ;  and  the  drawing,  which  began  January  11,  continued  incessantly, 
day  and  night,  till  May  6.  There  were  then  only  three  lottery  offices  in 
London, 


204  THE    TATLER.  [No.  124. 

of  men  who  have  found  out  so  pleasing  an  expedient  for 
carrying  on  the  common  cause,  that  they  have  turned  a  tax  into 
a  diversion.  The  cheerfulness  of  spirit,  and  the  hopes  of 
success,  which  this  project  has  occasioned  in  this  great  city, 
lightens  the  burden  of  the  war,  and  puts  me  in  mind  of  some  games 
which,  they  say,  were  invented  by  wise  men,  who  were  lovers 
of  their  country,  to  make  their  fellow-citizens  undergo  the 
tediousness  and  fatigues  of  a  long  siege.  I  think  there  is  a 
kind  of  homage  due  to  fortune,  if  I  may  call  it  so,  and  that  I 
should  be  wanting  to  myself,  if  I  did  not  lay  in  my  pretences  to 
her  favour,  and  pay  my  compliments  to  her  by  recommending 
a  ticket  to  her  disposal.  For  this  reason,  upon  my  return  to 
my  lodgings,  I  sold  off  a  cou2)le  of  globes  and  a  telescope,  which, 
with  the  cash  I  had  by  me,  raised  the  sum  that  was  requisite 
for  that  purpose.  I  find  by  my  calculations,  that  it  is  but  an 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  to  one,  against  my  being  worth  a 
thousand  pounds  ^er  annum  for  thirty-two  years  ;  and  if  any 
Pliinib  in  the  city  will  lay  me  an  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
pounds  to  twenty  shillings,  which  is  an  even  bet,  that  I  am  not 
this  fortunate  man,  I  will  take  the  wager,  and  shall  look  upon 
him  as  a  man  of  singular  courage  and  fair-dealing  ;  having 
given  orders  to  Mr.  Morphew  to  subscribe  such  a  policy  in  my 
behalf,  if  any  person  accepts  of  the  offer.  I  must  confess,  I 
have  had  such  private  intimations  from  the  twinkling  of  a 
certain  star  in  some  of  my  astronomical  observations,  that  I 
should  be  unwilling  to  take  fifty  pounds  a  year  for  my  chance, 
unless  it  were  to  oblige  a  particular  friend. 

My  chief  business  at  present  is,  to  prepare  my  mind  for  this 
change  of  fortune  :  for  as  KSeneca,  who  was  a  greater  moralist, 
and  a  much  richer  man  than  I  shall  be  with  this  addition  to  my 
present  income,  says,  Munera  ista  Fortunoe  putatis  ?  Insidice 
sunt,  "  What  we  look  upon  as  gifts  and  presents  of  fortune,  are 
traps  and  snares  which  she  lays  for  the  unwary."  I  am  arming 
myself  against  her  favours  with  all  my  philosophy  ;  and  that  I 
may  not  lose  myself  in  such  a  redundance  of  unnecessary 
and  superfluous  wealth,  I  have  determined  to  settle  an  annual 
pension  out  of  it  upon  a  family  of  Palatines,  and  by  that  means 


No.  124.]  A    WHEEL    OF    CHANCE.  205 

give  these  unhappy  strangers  a  taste  of  British  property.  At 
the  same  time,  as  I  have  an  excellent  servant-maid,  ^vhose 
diligence  in  attending  me  has  increased  in  proportion  to  my 
infirmities,  I  shall  settle  upon  her  the  revenue  arising  out  of 
the  ten  pounds,  and  amounting  to  fourteen  shillings  |?er  annum  ; 
with  which  she  may  retire  into  Wales,  where  she  was  born  a 
gentlewoman,  and  pass  the  remaining  part  of  her  days  in  a 
condition  suitable  to  her  birth  and  quality.  It  was  impossible 
for  me  to  make  an  inspection  into  my  own  fortune  on  this 
occasion,  without  seeing,  at  the  same  time,  the  fate  of  others 
who  are  embarked  in  the  same  adventure.  And  indeed  it  was 
a  great  pleasure  to  me  to  observe,  that  the  war,  which  gene- 
rally impoverishes  those  who  furnish  out  the  expense  of  it,  will 
by  this  means  give  estates  to  some,  without  making  others  the 
poorer  for  it.  I  have  lately  seen  several  in  liveries,  who  will 
give  as  good  of  their  own  very  suddenly  ;  and  took  a  particular 
satisfaction  in  the  sight  of  a  young  country-wench,  whom  I  this 
morning  passed  by  as  she  was  whirling  her  mop,  with  her  petti- 
coats tucked  up  very  agreeably,  who,  if  there  is  any  truth  in  my 
art,  is  within  ten  months  of  being  the  handsomest  great  fortune 
in  town.  I  must  confess,  I  was  so  struck  with  the  foresight  of 
what  she  is  to  be,  that  I  treated  her  accordingly,  and  said  to 
her,  "  Pray,  young  lady,  permit  me  to  pass  by."  I  would  for 
this  reason  advise  all  masters  and  mistresses,  to  carry  it  with 
great  moderation  and  condescension  towards  their  servants 
until  next  Michaelmas,  lest  the  superiority  at  that  time  should 
be  inverted. 

I  must  likewise  admonish  all  my  brethren  and  fellow- 
adventurers,  to  fill  their  minds  with  proper  arguments  for 
their  support  and  consolation  in  case  of  ill  success.  It  so 
happens  in  this  paticular,  that  though  the  gainers  will  have 
reason  to  rejoice,  the  losers  will  have  no  reason  to  complain. 
I  remember,  the  day  after  the  thousand  ]jound ^mze  was  drawn 
in  the  Penny-lottery,  I  went  to  visit  a  splenetic  acquaintance 
of  mine,  who  was  under  much  dejection,  and  seemed  to  me  to 
have  suffered  some  great  disappointment.  Upon  inquiry,  I 
found  he  had  put  two-pence  for  himself  and  his  son  into  the 


206  THE    TATLEK.  [No.  124. 

lottery,  and  that  neither  of  them  had  drawn  the  thonsand 
pounds.  Hereupon  this  unhicky  person  took  occasion  to 
enumerate  the  misfortunes  of  his  life,  and  concluded  with 
telling  me,  "  that  he  never  was  successful  in  any  of  his  under- 
taking's." I  was  forced  to  comfort  him  with  the  common 
reflection  upon  such  occasions,  "  that  men  of  the  greatest 
merit  are  not  always  men  of  tlie  greatest  success,  and  that 
persons  of  his  character  must  not  expect  to  be  as  happy  as 
fools."  I  shall  proceed  in  the  like  manner  with  my  rivals  and 
competitors  for  the  thousand ^wiinds  a  year,  which  we  are  now 
in  pursuit  of;  and  that  I  may  give  general  content  to  the 
whole  body  of  candidates,  I  shall  allow  all  that  draw  prizes  to 
be  fortunate,  and  all  that  miss  them  to  be  wise. 

I  must  not  here  omit  to  acknowledge,  that  I  have  received 
several  letters  upon  this  subject,  but  find  one  common  error 
running  through  them  all,  which  is,  that  the  writers  of  them 
believe  their  fate  jn  these  cases  depends  upon  the  astrologer, 
and  not  upon  the  stars  ;  as  in  the  following  letter  from  one, 
who,  I  fear,  flatters  himself  with  hopes  of  success  which  are 
altogether  groundless,  since  he  does  not  seem  to  me  so  great  a 
fool  as  he  takes  himself  to  be. 

"Sir, 

''  Coming  to  town,  and  finding  my  friend  Mr.  Partridge 
dead  and  buried,  and  you  the  only  conjurer  in  repute,  I  am 
under  a  necessity  of  applying  myself  to  you  for  a  favour,  which 
nevertheless  I  confess  it  would  better  become  a  fi-iend  to  ask, 
than  one  who  is,  as  I  am,  altogether  a  stranger  to  you  ;  but 
poverty,  you  know,  is  impudent ;  and  as  that  gives  me  the 
occasion,  so  that  alone  could  give  me  the  confidence  to  be  thus 
importunate. 

"  I  am,  sir,  very  poor,  and  very  desirous  to  be  otherwise  :  I 
have  got  ten  pounds,  which  I  design  to  venture  in  the  lottery 
now  on  foot.  What  I  desire  of  you  is,  that  by  your  art,  yon 
will  choose  such  a  ticket  for  me  as  shall  arise  a  benefit  sufficient 
to  maintain  me.  I  must  beg  leave  to  inform  you,  that  I  am 
good  for  nothing,  and  must  therefore  insist  upon  a  larger  lot 


No.  126.]         THE    mUDE    AXD    THE    COQUETTE.  207 

than  would  satisfy  those  who  are  capable,  by  their  own  abilities, 
of  adding  something  to  what  yoii  should  assign  them  ;  whereas 
I  must  expect  an  absolute  independent  maintenance,  because, 
as  I  said,  I  can  do  nothing.  It  is  possible,  after  this  free  con- 
fession of  mine,  you  may  think  I  do  not  deserve  to  be  rich  ; 
but  I  hope  you  will  likewise  observe,  I  can  ill  afford  to  be  poor. 
My  own  opinion  is,  that  I  am  well  qualified  for  an  estate,  and 
have  a  good  title  to  luck  in  a  lottery  ;  but  I  resign  myself 
wholly  to  your  mercy,  not  without  hopes  that  you  will  consider, 
the  less  I  deserve,  the  greater  the  generosity  in  you.  If  you 
reject  me,  I  have  agreed  with  an  acquaintance  of  mine  to  bury 
me  for  my  ten  pounds.  I  once  more  recommend  myself  to  your 
favour,  and  bid  you  adieu  !  " 


THE  PEUDE  AND  THE  COQUETTE. 

No.  126.     SATUEDAY,  January  28,  1709-10.     [Steele.] 

Anguillam  cauda  tenes. — T.  D"Urfey. 
You  have  got  an  eel  by  the  tail. 

There  is  no  sort  of  company  so  agreeable  as  that  of  women 
who  have  good  sense  without  affectation,  and  can  converse  with 
men  without  any  private  design  of  imposing  chains  and  fetters. 
Belvidera,  whom  I  visited  this  evening,  is  one  of  these.  There 
is  an  invincible  prejudice  in  favour  of  all  she  says,  from  her 
being  a  beautiful  woman  ;  because  she  does  not  consider  herself 
as  such  when  she  talks  to  you.  This  amiable  temper  gives  a 
certain  tincture  to  all  her  discourse,  and  made  it  very  agreeable 
to  me  until  we  were  interrupted  by  Lydia,  a  creature  who  has 
all  the  charms  that  can  adorn  a  woman.  Her  attractions 
would  indeed  be  irresistible,  but  that  she  thinks  them  so,  and 
is  always  employing  them  in  stratagems  and  conquests.  When 
I  turned  my  eye  upon  her  as  she  sat  down,  I  saw  she  was  a 
person  of  that  character,  which,  for  the  farther  information  of 
my  country  correspondents^  I  had  long  wanted  an  opportunity 


208  THE    TATLER.  [No.  126. 

of  explaining.     Lydia  is  a  finished  coquette,  which  is  a  sect 
among  women  of  all  others  the  most  mischievous,  and  makes 
the  greatest  havoc  and  disorder  in  society.      I  went  on  in  the 
discourse  I  was  in  with  Belvidera,  without  shewing  that  I  had 
observed  anything  extraordinary  in  Lydia  :    upon  which,  I 
immediately  saw  her  look  me  over  as  some  very  ill-bred  fellow  ; 
and,  casting  a  scornful  glance  on  my  dress,  give  a  shrug  at 
Belvidera.     But,  as  much  as  she  despised  me,  she  wanted  my 
admiration,  and  made  twenty  offers  to  bring  my  eyes  her  way  : 
but  I  reduced  her  to  a  restlessness  in  her  seat,  and  impertinent 
playing  of  her  fan,  and  many  other  motions  and  gestures,  before 
I  took  the  least  notice  of  her.     At  last  I  looked  at  her  with  a 
kind  of  surprise,  as  if  she  had  before  been  unobserved  by  reason 
of  an  ill  light  where  she  sat.     It  is  not  to  be  expressed  what  a 
sudden  joy  I  saw  arise  in  her  countenance,  even  at  the  appro- 
bation of  such  a  very  old  fellow  :  but  she  did  not  long  enjoy 
her  triumph  without  a  rival  ;  for  there  immediately  entered 
Castabella,  a  lady  of  a  quite  contrary  character,  that  is  to  say, 
as  eminent  a  prude  as  Lydia  is  a  coquette.     Belvidera  gave  me 
a  glance,  which  methought  intimated,  that  they  were  both 
curiosities  in  their  kind,  and  worth  remarking.     As  soon  as  we 
were  again  seated,  I  stole  looks  at  each  lady,  as  if  I  was  com- 
paring their  perfections.     Belvidera  observed  it,  and  began  to 
lead  me  into  a  discourse  of  them  both  to  their  faces,  which  is  to 
be  done  easily  enough  ;  for  one  woman  is  generally  so  intent 
upon  the  faults  of  another,  that  she  has  not  reflection  enough 
to  observe  when  her  own  are  represented.      "  I  have  taken 
notice,  Mr.  Bickerstaff,"  said  Belvidera,  ''that  you  have,  in 
some  parts  of  your  writings,  drawn  characters  of  our  sex,  in 
wliich  you  have  not,  to  my  apprehension,  been  clear  enough 
and  distinct ;  particularly  in  those  of  a  Prude  and  a  Coquette." 
Upon  the  mention  of  this,  Lydia  was  roused  with  the  expecta- 
tion of  seeing  Castabella's  picture,  and  Castabella,  with  the 
hopes  of  that  of  Lydia.  "  Madam,"  said  I  to  Belvidera,  "  when 
we  consider  nature,  we  shall  often  find  very  contrary  effects 
flow  from  the  same  cause.     The  Prude  and  Coquette,  as  different 
as  they  appear  in  their  behaviour,  are  in  reality  the  same  kind 


^o.  126.]         THE    PRUDE    AXD    THE    COQUETTE  209 

of  women.  The  motive  of  action  in  both  is  the  affectation  of 
pleasing  men.  They  are  sisters  of  the  same  blood  and  consti- 
tution ;  only  one  chooses  a  grave,  and  the  other  a  light  dress. 
The  Prnde  appears  more  yirtuous,  the  Coquette  more  vicious 
than  she  really  is.  The  distant  behaviour  of  the  Prude  tends 
to  the  same  purpose  as  the  advances  of  the  Coquette  ;  and  you 
have  as  little  reason  to  fall  into  despair  from  the  severity  of 
the  one,  as  to  conceive  hopes  from  the  familiarity  of  the  other. 
What  leads  you  into  a  clear  sense  of  their  character  is,  that  you 
may  observe  each  of  them  has  the  distinction  of  sex  in  all  her 
thoughts,  words,  and  actions.  You  can  never  mention  any 
assembly  you  were  lately  in,  but  one  asks  you  with  a  rigid,  the 
other  with  a  sprightly  air,  "  Pray,  what  men  were  there  ?  "  As 
for  Prudes,  it  must  be  confessed,  that  there  are  several  of  them 
who,  like  hypocrites,  by  long  practice  of  a  false  part  become 
sincere;  or  at  least  delude  themselves  into  a  belief  that  they 
are  so." 

For  the  benefit  of  the  society  of  ladies,  I  shall  propose  one 
rule  to  them  as  a  test  of  their  virtue.  I  find  in  a  very  celebrated 
modern  author,  that  the  great  foundress  of  Pietists,  madam  de 
Bourignon,*  who  was  no  less  famous  for  the  sanctity  of  her  life 
than  for  the  singularity  of  some  of  her  opinions,  used  to  boast,  that 
she  had  not  only  the  spirit  of  continency  in  herself,  but  that  she 
had  also  the  power  of  communicating  it  to  all  who  beheld  her. 
This  the  scoffers  of  those  days  called,  "  The  gift  of  infrigida- 
tion,"  and  took  occasion  from  it  to  rally  her  face,  rather  than 
admire  her  virtue.  I  would  therefore  advise  the  Prude,  who 
has  a  mind  to  know  the  integrity  of  her  own  heart,  to  lay  her 
hand  seriously  upon  it,  and  to  examine  herself,  whether  she 
could  sincerely  rejoice  in  sucli  a  gift  of  conveying  chaste 
thoughts  to  all  her  male  beholders.  If  she  has  any  aversion  to 
the  power  of  inspiring  so  great  a  virtue,  whatever  notion  she 
may  have  of  her  perfection,  she  deceives  her  own  heart,  and  is 

*  Antoinette  Bourignon  was  bom  at  Lisle  in  1616,  so  deformed,  that  it  was 
debated  for  some  days  in  the  family,  whether  it  was  not  proper  to  stifle  her  as 
a  monster.  She  pretended  to  inspiration,  and  boasted  of  extraordinary  com- 
jnunications  with  Grod, 


210  THE    TATLER.  [No.  12G. 

still  in  the  state  of  prudery.  Some  perhaps  will  look  upon 
the  boast  of  madam  de  Bourignon,  as  the  utmost  ostentation  of 
a  Prude. 

If  you  would  see  the  humour  of  a  Coquette  pushed  to  the  last 
excess,  you  may  find  an  instance  of  it  in  the  following  story  : 
which  I  will  set  down  at  length,  because  it  pleased  me  when  I 
read  it,  though  I  cannot  recollect  in  what  author. 

"  A  young  coquette  widow  in  France  having  been  followed 
by  a  Gascon  of  quality,  who  had  boasted  among  his  companions 
of  some  favours  which  he  had  never  received  ;  to  be  revenged 
of  him,  sent  for  him  one  evening,  and  told  him,  "  it  was  in  his 
power  to  do  her  a  very  particular  service."  The  Gascon,  with 
much  profession  of  his  readiness  to  obey  her  commands,  begged 
to  hear  in  what  manner  she  designed  to  employ  him.  "  You 
know,"  said  the  widow,  ^'  my  friend  Belinda  ;  and  must  often 
have  heard  of  the  jealousy  of  that  impotent  wretch  her  husband. 
Now  it  is  absolutely  necessary,  for  the  carrying  on  a  certain 
affair,  that  his  wife  and  I  should  be  together  a  whole  night. 
What  I  have  to  ask  of  you  is,  to  dress  yourself  in  her  night- 
cloaths,  and  lie  by  him  a  whole  night  in  her  place,  that  he  may 
not  miss  her  while  she  is  with  me."  The  Gascon,"though  of  a 
very  lively  and  undertaking  complexion,  began  to  startle  at  the 
proposal.  ^'  Nay,"  says  the  widow,  "  if  you  have  not  the 
courage  to  go  through  what  I  ask  of  you,  I  must  employ  some- 
body else  that  will."     "  Madam,"  says  the  Gascon,  "  I  will  kill 

him  for  you  if  you  please  ;  but  for  lying  with  him  ! -How  is  it 

possible  to  do  it  without  being  discovered  ?  "  "  If  you  do  not 
discover  yourself,"  says  the  widow,  "  you  will  lie  safe  enough, 
for  he  is  past  all  curiosity.  He  comes  in  at  night  while  she  is 
asleep,  and  goes  out  in  a  morning  before  she  awakes  ;  and  is  in 
pain  for  nothing,  so  he  knows  she  is  there."  ''  Madam,"  replied 
the  Gascon,  "  how  can  you  reward  me  for  passing  a  night  with 
this  old  fellow  ?  "  The  widow  answered  with  a  laugh,  '^  Per- 
haps by  admitting  you  to  pass  a  night  with  one  you  think  more 
agreeable."  He  took  the  hint  ;  put  on  his  night-cloaths  ;  and 
had  not  been  a-bed  above  an  hour  before  he  heard  a  knockino' 
at  the  door,  and  the  treading  of  one  who  approached  the  other 


No.  127.]  PRIDE.  211 

side  of  the  bed,  and  who  he  did  not  question  was  the  good  man 
of  the  house.  I  do  not  know,  whether  the  story  would  be  better 
by  telling  jou  in  this  place,  or  at  the  end  of  it,  that  the  person 
who  went  to  bed  to  him  was  our  youDg  coquette  widow.  The 
Gascon  was  in  a  terrible  fright  every  time  she  moved  in  the 
bed,  or  turned  towards  him  ;  and  did  not  fail  to  shrink  from 
her,  until  he  had  conveyed  himself  to  the  very  ridge  of  the  bed. 
I  will  not  dwell  upon  the  perplexity  he  was  in  the  whole  night, 
which  was  augmented,  when  he  observed  that  it  was  now  broad 
day,  and  that  the  husband  did  not  yet  offer  to  get  up  and  go  about 
his  business.  All  that  the  Gascon  had  for  it,  was  to  keep  his 
face  turned  fi'om  him,  and  to  feign  himself  asleep,  when,  to  his 
utter  confusion,  the  widow  at  last  puts  out  her  arm,  and  pulls 
the  bell  at  her  bed's  head.  In  came  her  friend,  and  two  or 
three  companions  to  whom  the  Gascon  had  boasted  of  her 
favours.  The  widow  jumped  into  a  wrapping  gown,  and 
joined  with  the  rest  in  laughing  at  this  man  of  intrigue. 


PEIDE. 

No.  127.    TUESDAY,  Januaey  31,  1709-10.     [Steele.] 

Nimirum  insanus  paucis  videatur,  eo  quod 
Maxima  pars  hominum  morbo  jactatur  eodem. 

HoR.  2  Sat.  iii.  120. 

By  few,  forsooth,  a  madman  lie  is  thought, 
For  half  mankind  the  same  disease  have  caught. 

There  is  no  affection  of  the  mind  so  much  blended  in  human 
nature,  and  wroug?it  into  our  very  constitution,  as  Pride.  It 
appears  under  a  multitude  of  disguises,  and  breaks  out  in  ten 
thousand  different  symptoms.  Every  one  feels  it  in  himself,  and 
yet  wonders  to  see  it  in  his  neighbour.  I  must  confess,  I  met 
with  an  instance  of  it  the  other  day,  where  I  should  very  little 
have  expected  it.  "Who  would  believe  the  proud  person  I  am 
going  to  speak  of  is  a  cobbler  upon  Liidgate  Hill  ?    This  artist 


21i  THE    TATLER.  [No.  127. 

being  naturally  a  lover  of  respect,  and  considering  that  his 
circumstances  are  such  that  no  man  living  will  give  it  him,  has 
contrived  the  figure  of  a  beau  in  wood ;  who  stands  before  him 
in  a  bending  posture,  with  his  hat  under  his  left  arm,  and  his 
right  hand  extended  in  such  a  manner  as  to  hold  a  thread,  a 
piece  of  wax,  or  an  awl,  according  to  the  particular  service  in 
which  his  master  thinks  fit  to  employ  him.  When  I  saw  him, 
he  held  a  candle  in  this  obsequious  posture.  I  was  very  well 
pleased  with  the  cobbler's  invention,  that  had  so  ingeniously 
contrived  an  inferior,  and  stood  a  little  while  contemplating 
this  inverted  idolatry,  wherein  the  image  did  homage  to  the 
man.  When  we  meet  with  such  a  fantastic  vanity  in  one  of 
this  order,  it  is  no  wonder  if  we  may  trace  it  through  all  degrees 
above  it,  and  particularly  through  all  the  steps  of  greatness. 
We  easily  see  the  absurdity  of  Pride,  when  it  enters  into  the 
heart  of  a  cobbler  ;  though  in  reality  it  is  altogether  as  ridiculous 
and  unreasonable,  wherever  it  takes  possession  of  an  human 
creature.  There  is  no  temptation  to  it  from  the  reflection  upon 
our  being  in  general,  or  upon  any  comparative  perfection, 
whereby  one  man  may  excel  another.  The  greater  a  man's 
knowledge  is,  the  greater  motive  he  may  seem  to  have  for 
Pride  ;  but  in  the  same  proportion  as  the  one  rises,  the  other 
sinks,  it  being  the  chief  office  of  wisdom  to  discover  to  us  our 
weaknesses  and  imperfections. 

As  folly  is  the  foundation  of  Pride,  the  natural  superstructure 
of  it  is  madness.  If  there  was  an  occasion  for  the  experiment, 
I  would  not  question  to  make  a  proud  man  a  lunatic  in  three 
weeks  time  ;  provided  I  had  it  in  my  power  to  ripen  his  phrenzy 
with  proper  applications.  It  is  an  admirable  reflection  in 
Terence,  where  it  is  said  of  a  parasite,  Hie  honwies  ex  stultis 
facit  insanos.  "  This  fellow,"  says  he,  *'has  an  art  of  converting 
fools  into  madmen."  When  I  was  in  France,  the  reason  of 
complaisance  and  vanity,  I  have  often  observed,  that  a  great 
man  who  has  entered  a  levee  of  flatterers  humble  and  temperate, 
has  grown  so  insensibly  heated  by  the  court  which  was  paid 
him  on  all  sides,  that  he  has  been  quite  distracted  before  he 
could  get  into  his  coach. 


No.  127.]  PRIDE.  213 

If  we  consult  the  collegiates  of  Moorfields,*  we  shall  find 
most  of  them  beholden  to  their  Pride  for  their  introduction  into 
that  magnificent  palace.  I  had,  some  years  ago,  the  curiosity 
to  inquire  into  the  particular  circumstances  of  these  whimsical 
freeholders  ;  and  learned  from  their  own  mouths  the  condition 
and  character  of  each  of  them.  Indeed,  I  found  that  all  I  spoke  to 
were  persons  of  quality.  There  were  at  that  time  five  duchesses, 
three  earls,  two  heathen  gods,  an  emperor,  and  a  prophet. 
There  were  also  a  great  number  of  such  as  were  locked  up  from 
their  estates,  and  others  who  concealed  their  titles.  A  leather- 
seller  of  Taunton  whispered  me  in  the  ear,  that  he  was  '^  the 
duke  of  Monmouth  ;  "  but  begged  me  not  to  betray  him.  At 
a  little  distance  from  him  sat  a  taylor's  wife,  who  asked  me, 
as  I  went,  if  I  had  seen  the  swordbearer  ?  upon  which  I  presumed 
to  ask  her,  who  she  was  ?  and  was  answered,  "  My  Lady 
Mayoress." 

I  was  very  sensibly  touched  with  compassion  towards  these 
miserable  people  ;  and,  indeed,  extremely  mortified  to  see 
human  nature  capable  of  being  thus  disfigured.  However,  I 
reaped  this  benefit  from  it,  that  I  was  resolved  to  guard  myself 
against  a  passion  which  makes  such  havoc  in  the  brain,  and 
produces  so  much  disorder  in  the  imagination.  For  this 
reason  I  have  endeavoured  to  keep  down  the  secret  swellings  of 
resentment,  and  stifle  the  very  first  suggestions  of  self-esteem  ; 
to  establish  my  mind  in  tranquillity,  and  over  value  nothing  in 
my  own  or  in  another's  possession. 

For  the  benefit  of  such  whose  heads  are  a  little  turned, 
though  not  to  so  great  a  degree  as  to  qualify  them  for  the  place 
of  which  I  have  been  now  speaking,  I  shall  assign  one  of  the 
sides  of  the  college  which  I  am  erecting,  for  the  cure  of  this 
dangerous  distemper. 

The  most  remarkable  of  the  persons,  whose  disturbance 
arises  from  Pride,  and  whom  I  shall  use  all  possible  dihgence 
to  cure,  are  such  as  are  hidden  in  the  appearance  of  quite 
contrary  habits  and  dispositions.     Among  such,  I  shall,  in  the 

*  A  lunatic  Asvlura. 


214  THE    TATLER.  [No.  127. 

first  place,  take  care  of  one  who  is  under  the  most  subtle  species 
of  Pride  that  I  have  observed  in  my  whole  experience. 

This  patient  is  a  person  for  whom  I  have  a  great  respect,  as 
being  an  old  courtier,  and  a  friend  of  mine  in  my  youth.  The 
man  has  but  a  bare  subsistence,  just  enough  to  pay  his  reckon- 
ing with  us  at  the  Trumpet*  :  but  by  having  spent  the  beginning 
of  his  life  in  the  hearing  of  great  men,  and  persons  of  power, 
he  is  always  promising  to  do  good  ofiices,  to  introduce  every 
man  he  converses  with  into  the  world  ;  will  desire  one  of  ten 
times  his  substance  to  let  him  see  him  sometimes,  and  hints  to 
him,  that  he  does  not  forget  him.  He  answers  to  matters  of 
no  consequence  with  great  circumspection  ;  but,  howev^er, 
maintains  a  general  civility  in  his  words  and  actions,  and  an 
insolent  benevolence  to  all  whom  he  has  to  do  with.  This  he 
practises  with  a  grave  tone  and  air  ;  and  though  I  am  his  senior 
by  twelve  years,  and  richer  by  forty  pounds  per  annum,  he  had 
yesterday  the  impudence  to  commend  me  to  my  face,  and  tell 
me,  "  he  should  be  always  ready  to  encourage  me."  In  a  word, 
he  is  a  veiy  insignificant  fellow,  but  exceedingly  gracious. 
The  best  return  I  can  make  him  for  his  favours  is,  to  carry 
him  myself  to  Bedlam,  and  see  him  well  taken  care  of. 

The  next  person  I  shall  provide  for  is  of  a  quite  contrary 
character  ;  that  has  in  him  all  the  stiffness  and  insolence  of 
quality,  without  a  grain  of  sense  or  good  nature,  to  make  it 
either  respected  or  beloved.  His  Pride  has  infected  every 
muscle  of  his  face  ;  and  yet,  after  all  his  endeavours  to  show 
mankind  that  he  contemns  them,  he  is  only  neglected  by  all 
that  see  him,  as  not  of  consequence  enough  to  be  hated. 

For  the  cm-e  of  this  particular  sort  of  madness,  it  will  be 
necessary  to  break  through  all  forms  with  him,  and  familiarize 
his  carriage  by  the  use  of  a  good  cudgel.  It  may  likewise  be 
of  great  benefit  to  make  him  jump  over  a  stick  half  a  dozen 
times  QWQry  morning. 

A  third,  whom  I  have  in  my  eye,  is  a  young  fellow,  whose 
lunacy  is  such,  that  he  boasts  of  nothing  but  what  he  ought  to 

*  The  tavern  in  Sheer  Lane. 


No.  129.]  TASQUIX'S    LETTER.  21o 

be  ashamed  of.  He  is  vain  of  being  rotten,  and  talks  publicly 
of  having  committed  crimes  which  he  ought  to  be  hanged  for 
by  the  laws  of  his  country. 

There  are  several  others  whose  brains  are  hurt  with  Pride, 
and  whom  I  may  hereafter  attempt  to  recover  ;  but  shall  con- 
clude my  present  list  with  an  old  woman,  who  is  just  dropping 
into  her  grave,  that  talks  of  nothing  but  her  birth.  Though 
she  had  not  a  tooth  in  her  head,  she  expects  to  be  valued  for 
the  blood  in  her  veins;  which  she  fancies  is  much  better  than 
that  which  glows  in  the  cheeks  of  Belinda,*  and  sets  half  the 
town  on  fire. 


PASQUIN'S  LETTER. 

No.  129.    SATURDAY,  February  4,  1709-10.    [Steele.] 

Ingenio  manus  est  et  cervix  ceesa. 

Juv.  Sat,  X.  120. 

His  wit's  rewarded  \vitli  tlie  fatal  loss 
Of  hand  aud  head 

Whex  my  paper  for  to-morrow  was  prepared  for  the  press, 
there  came  in  this  morning  a  mail  from  Holland,  which  brought 
me  several  advices  from  foreign  parts,  and  took  my  thoughts 
off  domestic  affairs.  Among  others,  I  have  a  letter  from  a 
burgher  of  Amsterdam,  who  makes  me  his  compliments,  and 
tells  me  he  has  sent  me  several  draughts  of  humorous  and 
satirical  pictures  by  the  best  hands  of  the  Dutch  nation.  They 
are  a  trading  people,  and  in  their  very  mind  mechanics.  They 
express  their  wit  in  manufacture,  as  we  do  in  manuscript.  He 
informs  me,  that  a  very  witty  hand  has  lately  represented  the 

*  Steele  alludes  to  certain  ladies  celebrated  at  this  time  for  their 
beauty.  Among  these,  a  daughter  of  Baron  Spanheim,  the  Bavarian  Ambas- 
sador at  St.  James'.s,  was  not  the  least  eminent.  After  the  death  of  her 
father,  which  happened  here,  she  married  the  JMarquis  dc  ^Montandre,  who 
bore  a  commission  in  the  British  array.  "  As  beautiful  as  ]\Iadam  Spanheim," 
■was  a  proverbial  expitssiou.  This  lady  is  mentioned  as  a  distinguished 
beautv,  under  her  real  maiden  name,  in  the  "Spectator." 

Q 


216  THE    TATLER,  [No.  129. 

present  posture  of  public  affairs  in  a  landskip,  or  rather  a  sea- 
piece,  wherein  the  potentates  of  the  alliance  are  figured  as  their 
interests  correspond  with,  or  afPect  each  other,  under  the 
appearance  of  commanders  of  ships.  These  vessels  carry  the 
colours  of  the  respective  nations  concerned  in  the  present  war. 
The  whole  design  seems  to  tend  to  one  point,  which  is,  that 
several  squadrons  of  British  and  Dutch  ships  are  battering  a 
French  man-of-war,  in  order  to  make  her  deliver  up  a  long  boat 
with  Spanish  colours.  My  correspondent  informs  me,  that  a  man 
must  understand  the  compass  perfectly  well,  to  be  able  to 
comprehend  the  beauty  and  invention  of  this  piece  ;  which  is 
so  skilfully  drawn,  that  the  particular  views  of  every  prince  in 
Europe  are  seen  according  as  the  ships  lie  to  the  main  figure  in 
the  picture,  and  as  that  figure  may  help  or  retard  their  sailing. 
It  seems  this  curiosity  is  now  on  board  a  ship  bound  for 
England,  and,  with  other  rarities,  made  a  present  to  me.  As 
soon  as  it  arrives,  I  design  to  expose  it  to  public  view  at  my 
secretary  Mr.  Lillie's,  who  shall  have  an  explication  of  all 
the  terms  of  art ;  and  I  doubt  not  but  it  will  give  as  good 
content  as  the  moving  picture  in  Fleet  Street.* 

But,  above  all  the  honours  I  have  received  from  the  learned 
world  abroad,  I  am  most  delighted  with  the  following  epistle 
from  Eome. 

"  Pasquin  of  Eome  to  Isaac  Bickerstaff,  of  Great  Britain, 
greeting. 

''Sir, 

"  Your  reputation  has  passed  the  Alps,  and  would 
have  come  to  my  ears  by  this  time,  if  I  had  any.  In  short, 
sir,  you  are  looked  upon  here  as  a  northern  droll,  and  the 
greatest  virtuoso  among  the  Tramontanes.  Some  indeed  say, 
that  Mr.  Bickerstaff  and  Pasquin  are  only  names  invented  to 

*  To  be  seen  daily,  at  tlie  Duke  of  Marlborougli's  Head  in  Fleet  Street,  a 
new  moving  figure,  drawn  by  the  best  hand,  with  a  great  variety  of  curious 
motions  and  figures,  which  form  a  most  agreeable  prospect.  It  has  the 
general  approbation  of  all  who  see  it,  and  far  exceeds  the  original  formerly 
shown  at  the  same  place.  This  picture  was  never  exposed  to  public  view 
before  the  beginning  of  the  present  year,  1710. — Advertisement. 


No.  129.]  TASQUIX'S    LETTER.  217 

father  compositions  which  the  natural  parent  does  not  care  for 
owning.     But,  however  that  is,  all  agree,  that  there  are  several 
persons,  who,  if  they  durst  attack  you,  would  endeavour  to 
leave  you  no  more  limbs  than  I  have.     I  need  not  tell  you  that 
my  adversaries  have  joined  in  a  confederacy  with  Time  to 
demolish  me,  and  that,  if  I  were  not  a  very  great  wit,  I  should 
make  the  worst  figure  in  Europe,  being  abridged  of  my  legs, 
arms,  nose,  and  ears.     If  you  think  fit  to  accept  of  the  corres- 
pondence of  so  facetious  a  cripple,  I  shall  from  time  to  time  send 
you  an  account  of  what  happens  at  Rome.     You  have  only 
heard  of  it  from  Latiu  and  Greek  authors ;  nay,  perhaps,  have 
read  no  accounts  from  hence,  but  of  a  triumph,  ovation,  or 
cqjotheosis,'^  and  will,  doubtless,  be  surprised  to  see  the  descrip- 
tion of  a  profession,  jubilee,  or  canonization.     I  shall,  however, 
send  you  what  the  place  affords,  in  return  to  what  I  shall 
receive  from  you.     If  you  will  acquaint  me  with  your  next 
promotion  of  general  officers,  I  will  send  you  an  account  of  our 
next  advancement  of  saints.     If  you  will  let  me  know  who  is 
reckoned  the  bravest  warrior  in  Great  Britain,  I  will  tell  you 
who  is  the  best  fiddler  in  Rome.     If  you  will  favour  me  with 
an  inventory  of  the  riches  that  were  brought  into  your  nation 
by  admiral  Wager,t  I  will  not  fail  giving  you  an  account  of  a 
pot  of  medals  that  has  been  lately  dug  up  here,  and  are  now 
under  the  examination  of  our  ministers  of  state. 

"  There  is  one  thing,  in  which  I  desire  you  would  be  very 
particular.  What  I  mean  is  an  exact  list  of  all  the  religions 
in  Great  Britain,  as  likewise  the  habits,  which  are  said  here  to 

*  An  ovation  was  a  lesser  sort  of  triumph  or  honour  granted  by  the  Romans 
to  their  victorious  generals.  At  the  ovation  the  general  entered  the  city  on 
foot  or  on  horseback,  whereas  in  the  triumjjh  he  rode  in  a  chariot.  Apo- 
theosis signifies  their  deification  of  a  great  man  after  his  death,  or  reckoning 
him  among  the  gods. 

f  Charles  Wager,  a  man  of  great  skill  in  his  profession,  was  first  made  a 
Captain  at  the  battle  of  La  Hogue  by  Admiral  Russel.  He  was  sent  Commo- 
dore to  the  West  Indies  in  1707,  where  he  attacked  the  Spanish  galleons, 
May  28,  1708,  with  three  ships,  though  they  were  fourteen  in  number  drawn 
up  in  line  of  battle,  and  defeated  them.  His  services  Queen  Anne  dis- 
tinguished by  sending  him  a  flag  as  Yice-Admiral  of  the  Blue,  intended  for 
him  before  this  engagement,  and  by  honouring  him  at  his  retui'n  with  knight- 
hood,    His  share  of  prize  money  amounted  to  £100,000. 

Q  2 


218  THE    TATLER.  [No.  129. 

be  the  great  points  of  conscience  in  England  ;  whether  they 
are  made  of  serge  or  broad-cloth,  of  silk  or  linen.  I  should 
be  glad  to  see  a  model  of  the  most  conscientious  dress  among 
YOU,  and  desire  you  will  send  me  a  hat  of  each  religion  ;  as 
likewise,  if  it  be  not  too  much  trouble,  a  cravat.  Ifc  would  also 
be  very  acceptable  here  to  receive  an  account  of  those  two 
religious  orders,  which  are  lately  sprung  up  amongst  you,  the 
Whigs  and  the  Tories,  with  the  points  of  doctrine,  severities  in 
discipline,  penances,  mortifications,  and  good  works,  by  which 
they  differ  one  from  another.  It  would  be  no  less  kind,  if  you 
would  explain  to  us  a  word,  which  they  do  not  understand  even 
at  our  English  monastery,  Toasts,  and  let  us  know  whether  the 
ladies  so  called  are  nuns  or  lay-sisters.  In  return,  I  will  send  you 
the  secret  history  of  several  cardinals,  which  I  have  by  me  in 
manuscript,  with  the  gallantries,  amours,  politics,  and  intrigues, 
by  which  they  made  their  way  to  the  holy  purple. 

But,  when  I  propose  a  correspondence,  I  must  not  tell  you 
what  I  intend  to  advise  you  of  hereafter,  and  neglect  to  give 
you  what  I  have  at  present.  The  pope  has  been  sick  for  this 
fortnight  of  a  violent  tooth-ache,  which  has  very  much  raised 
the  French  faction,  and  put  the  Conclave  into  a  great  ferment. 
Every  one  of  the  pretenders  to  the  succession  is  grown 
twenty  years  older  than  he  was  a  fortnight  ago.  Each  candi- 
date tries  who  shall  cough  and  stoop  most ;  for  these  are  at 
present  the  great  gifts,  that  recommend  to  the  great  Apostolical 
seat ;  which  he  stands  the  fairest  for,  who  is  likely  to  resign  it 
the  soonest.  I  have  known  the  time,  when  it  used  to  rain  Louis 
d'ors  on  such  occasions  ;  but,  whatever  is  the  matter,  there 
are  very  few  of  them  to  be  seen,  at  present,  at  Rome,  insomuch, 
that  it  is  thought  a  man  might  pui'chase  infallibility  at  a  very 
reasonable  rate.  It  is  nevertheless  hoped,  that  his  holiness 
may  recover,  and  bury  these  his  imaginary  successors. 

*'  There  has  lately  been  found  an  human  tooth  in  a  catacomb, 
which  has  engaged  a  couple  of  convents  in  law  suit ;  each  of 
them  pretending  that  it  belonged  to  the  jaw-bone  of  a  saint, 
who  was  of  their  order.  The  college  have  sat  upon  it  thrice  ; 
and  I  find  there  is  a  disposition  among  them  to  take  it  out  of 


Xo.  130.]  THE    rPvESENT    AGE.  219 

the  possession  of  both  the  contending  parties,  by  reason  of  a 
speech,  -which  was  made  by  one  of  the  cardinals,  who,  by  reason 
of  its  being  found  out  of  the  company  of  any  other  bones* 
asserted,  that  it  might  be  one  of  the  tectli,  which  was  coughed 
out  by  iElia,  an  old  woman,  whose  loss  is  recorded  in  Martial. 
*'  I  have  nothing  remarkable  to  communicate  to  yon  of  state 
affairs,  excepting  only,  that  the  Pope  has  lately  received  a  horse 
from  the  German  ambassador,  as  an  acknowledgment  for  the 
kingdom  of  J^aples,  which  is  a  fief  of  the  church.  His  holiness 
refused  this  horse  from  the  Germans  ever  since  the  duke  of 
Anjou  has  been  possessed  of  Spain  ;  but  as  they  lately  took 
care  to  accompany  it  with  a  body  of  ten  thousand  more,  they 
have  at  last  overcome  his  holiness's  modesty,  and  prevailed 
upon  him  to  accept  the  present.  I  am,  sir,  your  most  obedient, 
humble  servant, 

"  Pasquin." 


THE  PEESENT  AGE. 

Xo.  130.     TUESDAY,  February  7,  1709-10.     [Steele.] 


Tamen  me 


Cum  raagnis  vixisse  invita  fatebitur  usque 

Invidia •  Hor.  2  Sat.  i.  75. 

Spite  of  lierself  cv'n  Envy  must  confess. 
That  I  the  friendship  of  tlie  great  possess. 

I  FIND  some  of  the  most  polite  Latin  authors,  who  wrote  at 
a  time  when  Rome  was  in  its  glory,  speak  with  a  certain  noble 
vanity  of  the  l)rightness  and  splendour  of  the  age  in  which  they 
lived.  Pliny  often  compliments  his  emperor  Trajan  upon  this 
head  ;  and  when  he  would  animate  him  to  anything  great,  or 
dissuade  him  from  anything  that  was  improper,  he  insinuates, 
that  it  is  befitting  or  unbecoming  the  cJan'fas  ct  nitor  scculi, 
that  period  of  time  which  was  made  illustrious  by  his  reign. 
AVhen  we  cast  our  eyes  back  on  the  history  of  mankind,  and 
trace  them  through  their  several  successions  to  their  first 
original,  we  sometimes  see  them  breaking  out  in  great  and 


220  THE    TATLEE.  [No.  130. 

memorable  actions,  and  towering  np  to  the  utmost  heights  of 
virtue  and  knowledge  ;  when,  perhaps,  if  we  carry  onr  observa- 
tions to  a  little  distance,  we  see  them  sunk  into  sloth  and 
ignorance,  and  altogether  lost  in  darkness  and  obscnrity. 
Sometimes  the  whole  species  is  asleep  for  two  or  three  genera- 
tions, and  then  again  awakens  into  action  ;  flourishes  in  heroes, 
philosophers,  and  poets  ;  who  do  honour  to  human  nature,  and 
leave  such  tracks  of  glory  behind  them,  as  distinguish  the 
years  in  which  they  acted  their  part  from  the  ordinary  course 
of  time. 

Methinks  a  man  cannot,  without  a  secret  satisfaction, 
consider  the  glory  of  the  present  age,  which  will  shine  as  bright 
as  any  other  in  the  history  of  mankind.  It  is  still  big  with 
great  events,  and  has  already  produced  changes  and  revolutions, 
which  will  be  as  much  admired  by  posterity,  as  any  that  have 
happened  in  "the  days  of  our  fathers,  or  in  the  old  times 
before  them."  We  have  seen  kingdoms  divided  and  united, 
monarchs  erected  and  deposed,  nations  transferred  from  one 
sovereign  to  another  ;  conquerors  raised  to  such  a  greatness,  as 
has  given  a  terror  to  Europe,  and  thrown  down  by  such  a  fall, 
as  has  moved  their  pity. 

But  it  is  still  a  more  pleasing  view  to  an  Englishman,  to  see 
his  own  country  give  the  chief  influence  to  so  illustrious  an  age, 
and  stand  in  the  strongest  point  of  light  amidst  the  diffused 
glory  that  surround  it. 

If  we  begin  with  learned  men,  we  may  observe,  to  the  honour 
of  our  country,  that  those  who  make  the  greatest  figure  inmost 
arts  and  sciences,  are  universally  allowed  to  be  of  tlie  British 
nation  ;  and,  what  is  more  remarkable,  that  men  of  the  greatest 
learning,  are  among  the  men  of  the  greatest  quality. 

A  nation  may  indeed  abound  with  persons  of  such  uncom- 
mon parts  and  worth,  as  may  make  them  rather  a  misfortune 
than  a  blessing  to  the  public.  Those,  who  singly  might  have 
been  of  infinite  advantage  to  the  age  they  live  in,  ma}^,  by 
rising  up  together  in  the  same  crisis  of  time,  and  by  interfering 
in  their  pursuits  of  honour,  rather  interrupt,  than  promote  the 
service  of  their  country.     Of  this  we  have  a  famous  instance 


No.  130.]  THE    PRESEXT    AGE.  221 

in  the  republic  of  Home,  when  Cocsar,  Pompey,  Cato,  Cicero, 
and  Brutus,  endeavoured  to  recommend  themselves  at  the  same 
time  to  the  admiration  of  their  contemporaries.  Mankind  was 
not  able  to  provide  for  so  mau}^  extraordinary  persons  at  once, 
or  find  out  posts  suitable  to  their  ambition  and  abilities.  For 
this  reason  they  were  all  as  miserable  in  their  deaths,  as  they 
were  famous  in  their  lives,  and  occasioned  not  only  the  ruin  of 
each  other,  but  also  that  of  the  commonwealth. 

It  is  therefore  a  particular  happiness  to  a  people,  when  the 
men  of  superior  genius  and  character  are  so  justly  disposed  in 
the  high  places  of  honour,  that  each  of  them  moves  in  a  sphere 
which  is  proper  to  him,  and  requires  those  particular  qualities 
in  which  he  excels. 

If  I  see  a  general  commanding  the  forces  of  his  country, 
whose  victories  are  not  to  be  paralleled  in  story,  and  who  is  as 
famous  for  his  negotiations  as  his  victories ;  '^  and  at  the  same 
time  see  the  management  of  a  nation's  treasury  in  the  hand  of 
one,  who  has  always  distinguished  himself  by  a  genei'ous 
contempt  of  his  own  private  wealth,  and  an  exact  frugality  of 
that  which  belongs  to  the  public  ;  t  I  cannot  but  think  a 
people  under  such  an  administration  may  promise  themselves 
conquests  abroad,  and  plenty  at  home.  If  I  were  to  wish  foi' 
a  proper  person  to  preside  over  the  public  councils,  it  should 
certainly  be  one  as  much  admired  for  his  universal  knowledge 
of  men  and  things,  as  for  his  eloquence,  courage,  and  integrity, 
in  the  exerting  of  such  extraordinary  talents.  J 

AYho  is  not  pleased  to  see  a  person  in  the  highest  station  in 
the  law,  who  was  the  most  eminent  in  his  profession,  and  the 
most  accomplished  orator  at  the  bar  ?  §  Or  at  the  head  of  the 
fleet  a  commander,  under  whose  conduct  the  common  enemy 
received  such  a  blow,  as  he  has  never  been  able  to  recover  ?  || 

*  Steele  here  takes  occasion  to  pay  his  compliments  to  some  of  the  principal 
people  in  the  higher  departments  of  the  State  ;  and  first  to  the  Duke  of 
Marlborough,  Commander-in-Chief  of  her  Majesty's  forces. 

f  Sidney  Lord  Godolphin  was  then  Lord  High-Tieasurer  of  England, 

J  Lord  Somers  was  at  this  time  Loril  President  of  the  Council. 
.   §  Lord  Chancellor  Cowper  is  here  alluded  to. 

II  Edward  Kussel,  Eavl  of  Orford,  First  Lord  Commissioner  of  the  Admiralty. 
He  defeated  the  French  at  La  Hogue. 


222  THE    TATLER.  [Xo.  130. 

Were  we  to  form  to  ourselves  the  idea  of  one,  whom  we 
should  think  proper  to  govern  a  distant  kingdom,  consisting 
chiefly  of  those  who  differ  from  us  in  religion,  and  are  in- 
fluenced by  foreign  politics  ;  would  it  not  be  such  a  one,  as  had 
signalized  himself  by  an  uniform  and  unshaken  zeal  for  the 
Protestant  interest,  and  by  his  dexterity  in  defeating  the  skill 
and  artifice  of  its  enemies  ?  *  In  short,  if  we  find  a  great  man 
popular  for  his  honesty  and  humanity,  as  well  as  famed  for  his 
learning  and  great  skill  in  all  the  languages  of  Europe  ;  or  a 
person  eminent  for  those  qualifications,  which  make  men  shine 
in  public  assemblies,  or  for  that  steadiness,  constancy,  and  good 
sense,  which  carry  a  man  to  the  desired  point  through  all  the 
opposition  of  tumulb  and  prejudice,  we  have  the  happiness  to 
behold  them  in  all  posts  suitable  to  their  characters. 

Such  a  constellation  of  great  persons,  if  I  may  so  speak,  while 
they  shine  out  in  their  own  distinct  capacities,  reflect  a  lustre 
upon  each  other,  but  in  a  more  particular  manner  on  their 
Sovereign,  who  has  placed  them  in  those  proper  situations,  by 
which  their  virtues  become  so  beneficial  to  all  her  subjects.. 
It  is  the  anniversary  of  the  birthday  of  this  glorious  Queen, 
which  naturally  led  me  into  this  field  of  contemplation,  and, 
instead  of  joining  in  the  public  exaltations  that  are  made  on 
such  occasions,  to  entertain  my  thoughts  with  the  more  serious 
pleasure  of  ruminating  upon  the  glories  of  her  reign. 

While  I  behold  her  surrounded  with  triumphs,  and  adorned 
with  all  the  prosperity  and  success  which  heaven  ever  shed  on 
a  mortal,  and  still  considering  herself  as  such  ;  thongh  the 
person  appears  to  me  exceeding  great,  that  has  these  just 
honours  paid  to  her ;  yet  I  must  confess,  she  appears  much 
greater  in  that  she  receives  them  with  a  such  glorious  humility, 
and  shows  she  has  no  farther  regard  for  them,  than  as  they 
arise  from  these  great  events,  which  have  made  her  subjects 
happy.  For  my  own  part,  I  must  confess,  when  I  see  private 
virtues  in  so  high  a  degree  of  perfection,  I  am  not  astonished 


^'  Thomas,  Earl  of  "Wharton,  had  recently  been  appointed  Lord-Lieutenant 
of  Ireland.     Addison  was  his  secretary. 


No.  131.]  ADULTERATION    OF    WINES.  223 

at  any  extraordinary  success  that  attends  them,  but  look  upon 
public  triumphs  as  the  natural  consequences  of  religious 
retirements. 


ADULTEEATION  OF  WINES. 

No.  131.    THURSDAY,  February  9,  1709-lu.    [Addison.] 

Scelus  est  jugulare  Falerniim, 

Et  dare  Cami^ano  toxica  sreva  mero.         I\[akt.  i.  19. 

How  great  the  crime,  Low  flagrant  the  abuse  ! 
T'  adulterate  generous  wine  with  noxious  juice. 

There  is  in  this  city  a  certain  fraternity  of  chemical 
operators,  who  work  underground  in  holes,  caverns,  and  dark 
retirements,  to  conceal  their  mysteries  from  the  eyes  and 
observation  of  mankind.  These  subterraneous  philosophers 
are  daily  employed  in  the  transmutation  of  liquors,  and,  by 
the  power  of  magical  drugs  and  incantations,  raising  under  the 
streets  of  London  the  choicest  products  of  the  hills  and  valleys 
of  France.  They  can  squeeze  Bordeaux  out  of  the  sloe,  and 
draw  Champagne  from  an  apple.  Virgil,  in  that  remarkable 
prophecy, 

liicultisque  ruljeus  pendebit  seiitibus  uva. 

ViRG.  Eel.  iv.  29. 

The  ripening  grape  shall  hang  on  every  thorn, 

seems  to  have  hinted  at  this  art,  which  can  turn  a  plantation 
of  northern  hedges  into  a  vineyard.  These  adepts  are  known 
among  one  another  by  the  name  of  Wine-brewers  ;  and,  I  am 
afraid,  do  great  injury,  not  only  to  her  majesty's  customs,  but 
to  the  bodies  of  many  of  her  good  subjects. 

Having  received  sundry  complaints  against  these  invisible 
workmen,  I  ordered  the  proper  officer  of  my  court  to  ferret 
them  out  of  their  respective  caves,  and  l)ring  them  before  me, 
which  was  yesterday  executed  accordingly. 


224  THE    TATLETl.  [No.  131. 

The  person  who  appeared  against  them  was  a  merchant,  who 
had  b}^  liim  a  great  magazine  of  wines,  that  he  had  laid  in 
before  the  war  :  but  these  gentlemen,  as  he  said,  had  so 
vitiated  the  nation's  palate,  that  no  man  could  believe  his  to 
be  French,  because  it  did  not  taste  like  what  thej  sold  for 
such."  As  a  man  never  pleads  better  than  where  his  own 
personal  interest  is  concerned,  he  exhibited  to  the  court,  with 
great  eloquence,  *'  that  this  new  corporation  of  druggists  had 
inflamed  the  bills  of  mortality,  and  puzzled  the  college  of 
physicians  with  diseases,  for  which  they  neither  knew  a  name 
or  cure.  He  accused  some  of  giving  all  their  customers  colics 
and  megrims  ;  and  mentioned  one  who  had  boasted,  he  had 
a  tun  of  claret  by  him,  that  in  a  fortnight's  time  should  give 
the  gout  to  a  dozen  of  the  healthfulest  men  in  the  city,  pro- 
vided that  their  constitutions  were  prepared  for  it  by  wealth 
and  idleness.  He  then  enlarged,  with  a  great  show  of  reason, 
upon  the  prejudice,  which  these  mixtures  and  compositions 
had  done  to  the  brains  of  the  English  nation  ;  as  is  too 
visible,  said  he,  from  many  late  pamphlets,  speeches,  and 
sermons,  as  well  as  from  the  ordinary  conversations  of  the 
youth  of  this  age.  He  then  quoted  an  ingenious  person,  who 
would  undertake  to  know  by  a  man's  writings  the  wine  he 
most  delighted  in  ;  and  on  that  occasion  named  a  certain 
satirist,  whom  he  had  discovered  to  be  the  author  of  a  lam- 
poon, by  a  manifest  taste  of  the  sloe,  which  showed  itself  in  it, 
by  much  roughness,  and  little  spirit. 

In  the  last  place,  he  ascribed  to  the  unnatural  tumults  and 
fermentations  which  these  mixtures  raise  in  our  blood,  the 
divisions,  heats,  and  animosities,  that  reign  among  us  ;  and, 
in  particular,  asserted  most  of  the  modern  enthusiasms  and 
agitations  to  be  nothing  else  but  the  effects  of  adulterated 
Port. 

The  counsel  for  the  Brewers  had  a  face  so  extremely 
inflamed,  and  illuminated  with  carbuncles,  that  I  did  not 
wonder  to  see  him  an  advocate  for  these  sophistications. 
His  rhetoric  was  likewise  such  as  I  should  have  expected  from 
the  common  draught,  which  I  found  he  often  drank  to  a  great 


Xo.  131.]  ADULTERATIOX    OF    ^IXES.  225 

excess.  ludeed,  I  was  so  surprised  at  his  figure  and  parts, 
that  I  ordered  him  to  give  me  a  taste  of  his  usual  liquor  ; 
which  I  had  no  sooner  drunk,  but  I  found  a  pimple  rising  in 
my  forehead  ;  and  felt  such  a  terrible  decay  in  my  under- 
standing, that  I  would  not  proceed  in  the  trial  until  the  fume 
of  it  was  entirely  dissipated. 

This  notable  advocate,  had  little  to  say  in  the  defence  of 
his  clients,  but  that  they  were  under  a  necessity  of  making 
claret>  if  they  keep  open  their  doors ;  it  being  the  nature  of 
mankind  to  love  everything  that  is  prohibited.  He  farther 
pretended  to  reason,  that  it  might  be  as  profitable  to  the  nation 
to  make  French  wine  as  French  hats  ;  and  concluded  with  the 
gi'cat  advantage  that  this  practice  had  already  l)rought  to  part 
of  the  kingdom.  Upon  which  he  informed  the  court,  that  the 
lands  in  Herefordshire  were  raised  two  years  purchase  since  the 
beginning  of  the  war. 

When  I  had  sent  out  my  summons  to  these  people,  I  gave, 
at  the  same  time,  orders  to  each  of  them  to  bring  the  several 
ingredients  he  made  use  of  in  distinct  phials,  which  they  had 
done  accordingly,  and  ranged  them  into  two  rows  on  each  side 
of  the  court.  The  workmen  were  drawn  up  in  ranks  behind 
them.  The  merchant  informed  me,  ^'that  in  one  row  of  phials 
w^ere  the  several  colours  they  dealt  in,  and  in  the  other,  the 
tastes."  He  then  showed  me,  on  the  right-hand,  one  who 
went  by  the  name  of  Tom  Tintoret,  who,  as  he  told  me,  *'  was 
the  greatest  master  in  his  colouring  of  any  vintner  in  London." 
To  give  me  a  proof  of  his  art,  he  took  a  glass  of  fair  water  ; 
and,  by  the  infusion  of  three  drops  out  of  one  of  his  phials, 
converted  it  into  a  most  beautiful  pale  Burgundy.  Two  more 
of  the  same  kind  heightened  it  into  a  perfect  Languedoc :  from 
thence  it  passed  into  a  florid  Hermitage  :  and  after  having 
gone  through  two  or  three  other  changes,  by  the  addition  of  a 
single  drop,  ended  in  a  very  deep  Pontac.  This  ingenious 
yirtuoso,  seeing  me  very  much  surprised  at  his  art,  told  me, 
that  he  had  not  an  opportunity  of  showing  it  in  perfection, 
having  only  made  use  of  water  for  the  ground-work  of  his 
colouring  ;   but   that,  if.  I   were   to   see   an  operation  upon 


226  THE    TATLEE.  [No.  131. 

liquors  of  stronger  bodies,  the  art  -would  appear  to  a  much 
greater  advantage.  He  added,  tliat  he  doubted  not  but  it 
would  please  mj  curiosity  to  see  the  cj^der  of  one  apple  take 
only  a  yermilion,  when  another,  with  a  less  quantity  of  the 
same  infusion,  would  rise  into  a  dark  purple,  according  to  the 
different  texture  of  parts  in  the  liquor.  He  informed  me 
also,  that  he  could  hit  the  diflPerent  shades  and  degrees  of 
red,  as  they  appear  in  the  pink  and  the  rose,  the  clove  and 
the  carnation,  as  he  had  Rhenish  or  Moselle,  Perry  or  White 
Port,  to  work  in. 

I  was  so  satisfied  with  the  ingenuity  of  this  virtuoso,  that, 
after  having  advised  him  to  quit  so  dishonest  a  profession, 
I  promised  him,  in  consideration  of  his  great  genius,  to 
recommend  him  as  a  partner  to  a  friend  of  mine,  who  has 
heaped  up  great  riches,  and  is  a  scarlet-dyer. 

The  artists  on  my  other  hand  were  ordered,  in  the  second 
place,  to  make  some  experiments  of  their  skill  before  me  : 
upon  which  the  famous  Harry  Sippet  stepped  out,  and  asked 
me,  "  what  I  would  be  pleased  to  di'ink  ?  "  At  the  same 
time  he  filled  out  three  or  four  white  liquors  in  a  glass,  and 
told  me,  '^  that  it  should  be  what  I  pleased  to  call  for  ; " 
adding  very  learnedly,  ''  That  the  liquor  before  him  was  as 
the  naked  substance,  or  first  matter  of  his  compound,  to  which 
he  and  his  friend,  who  stood  over-against  him,  could  give  what 
accidents,  or  form  they  pleased."  Finding  him  so  great  a 
philosopher,  I  desired  he  would  convey  into  it  the  qualities 
and  essence  of  right  Bordeaux.  "  Coming,  coming,  sir,"  said 
he,  with  the  air  of  a  drawer  ;  and,  after  having  cast  his  eye  on 
the  several  tastes  and  flavours  that  stood  before  him,  he  took 
up  a  little  cruet,  that  was  filled  with  a  kind  of  inky  juice,  and 
pouring  some  of  it  out  into  the  glass  of  white  wine,  presented 
it  to  me  ;  and  told  m,e,  "  this  was  the  wine,  over  which  most  of 
the  business  of  the  last  term  had  l^cen  dispatched."  I  must 
confess,  I  looked  upon  that  sooty  drug,  which  he  held  up  in  his 
cruet,  as  the  quintessence  of  English  Bordeaux  ;  and  therefore 
desired  him  to  give  me  a  glass  of  it  by  itself,  which  he  did 
with  great  unwillingness.    My  cat  at  that  time  sat  by  me  upon 


No.  132.]  OUR    CLUB.  227 

the  elbow  of  my  chair  ;  and  as  I  did  not  care  for  making  the 
experiment  upon  myself,  I  reached  it  to  her  to  sip  of  it,  which 
had  like  to  have  cost  her  her  life ;  for,  notwithstanding  it  flung 
her  at  first  into  freakish  tricks,  quite  contrary  to  her  usual 
gravity,  in  less  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  she  fell  into  convul- 
sions ;  and,  had  it  not  l)een  a  creature  more  tenacious  of  life 
than  any  other,  would  certainly  have  died  under  the  opera- 
tion. 

I  was  so  incensed  by  the  tortures  of  my  innocent  domestic, 
and  the  unworthy  dealings  of  these  men,  that  I  told  them,  if 
each  of  them  had  as  many  lives  as  the  injured  creature  before 
them,  they  deserved  to  forfeit  them  for  the  pernicious  arts 
which  they  used  for  their  profit.  I  therefore  bid  them  look 
upon  themselves  as  no  better  than  as  a  kind  of  assassins  and 
murderers  within  the  law.  However,  since  they  had  dealt  so 
clearly  with  me,  and  laid  before  me  their  whole  practice,  I  dis- 
missed them  for  that  time ;  with  a  particular  request,  that  they 
would  not  poison  any  of  my  friends  and  acquaintance,  and  take 
to  some  honest  livelihood  without  loss  of  time. 

For  my  own  part,  I  have  resolved  hereafter  to  be  very 
careful  in  my  liquors  ;  and  have  agreed  with  a  friend  of  mine 
in  the  army,  npon  their  next  march,  to  secure  me  two  hogs- 
heads of  the  best  stomach-wine  in  the  cellars  of  Versailles, 
for  the  good  of  my  Lucubrations,  and  the  comfort  of  my  old 
a2:e. 


OUE  CLUB. 

No.  182.    SATURDAY,  Febkuary  11,  17<:)9-10.    [Steele.] 

Habeo  senectuti  magnam  gratiam,  qnsQ  mihi  sermonis  aviditatem  auxit, 
potionis  et  cibi  sustulit. — Tcll.  de  Sen. 

I  am  much  beholden  to  old  age,  which  has  increased  my  eagerness  for  con- 
versation in  proportion  as  it  has  lessened  my  appetites  of  hunger  and  thirst. 

After  having  applied  my  mind  with  more  than  ordinary 
attention  to  my  studies,  it  is  my  usual  custom  to  relax  and 


228  THE    TATLER.  [No.  132, 

unbend  it  in  the  conyersation  of  such,  as  are  rather  easy  than 
shining  companions.  This  I  find  particularly  necessary  for 
me  before  I  retire  to  rest,  in  order  to  draw  my  slumbers  upon 
me  by  degrees,  and  fall  asleep  insensibly.  This  is  the 
particular  use  I  make  of  a  set  of  heavy  honest  men,  with  whom 
I  have  passed  many  hours  with  much  indolence,  though  not 
with  great  pleasure.  Their  conyersation  is  a  kind  of  prepara- 
tive for  sleep  :  it  takes  the  mind  down  from  its  abstractions, 
leads  it  into  the  familiar  traces  of  thought,  and  lulls  it  into 
that  state  of  tranquillity,  which  is  the  condition  of  a  thinking 
man,  when  he  is  but  half  awake.  After  this,  my  reader  will 
not  be  surprised  to  hear  the  account,  which  I  am  about  to  give 
of  a  club  of  my  own  contemporaries,  among  whom  I  pass  two 
or  three  hours  every  evening.  This  I  look  upon  as  taking  my 
first  nap  before  I  go  to  bed.  The  truth  of  it  is,  I  should  think 
myself  unjust  to  posterity,  as  well  as  to  the  society  at  the 
Trumpet,^'  of  which  I  am  a  member,  did  not  I  in  some  part  of 
my  writings  give  an  account  of  the  persons  among  whom  I 
have  passed  almost  a  sixth  part  of  my  time  for  these  last  forty 
years.  Our  club  consisted  originally  of  fifteen  ;  but,  partly  by 
the  severity  of  the  law  in  arbitrary  times,  and  partly  by  the 
natural  effects  of  old  age,  we  are  at  present  reduced  to  a  third 
part  of  that  number  :  in  which,  however,  we  hear  this  consola- 
tion, that  the  best  company  is  said  to  consist  of  five  persons. 
I  must  confess,  besides  the  aforementioned  benefit  which  I 
meet  with  in  the  conversation  of  this  select  society,  I  am  not 
the  less  pleased  with  the  company,  in  that  I  find  myself  the 
greatest  wit  among  them,  and  am  heard  as  their  oracle  in  all 
points  of  learning  and  difficulty. 

Sir  Jeoflfrey  Notch,  who  is  the  oldest  of  the  club,  has  been  in 
possession  of  the  right-hand  chair  time  out  of  mind,  and  is  the 
only  man  among  us  that  has  the  liberty  of  stirring  the  fire. 
This  our  foreman  is  a  gentleman  of  an  ancient  family,  that 
came  to  a  great  estate  some  years  before  he  had  discretion,  and 
run  it  out  in  hounds,  horses,  and  cock-fighting;  for  which 

*  A  tavern  iu  Sheer  Lane. 


No.  132.]  OUR    CLUB.  229 

reason  he  looks  iq^on  himself  as  an  honest,  worthy  gentleman, 
who  has  had  misfortunes  in  the  world,  and  calls  every  thriving* 
man  a  pitiful  upstart. 

]\Iajor  Matchlock  is  the  next  senior,  who  served  in  the  last 
civil  wars,  and  has  all  the  battles  by  heart.  He  does  not  think 
any  action  in  Europe  worth  talking  of  since  the  fight  of 
Marston  Moor  ;  *  and  every  night  tells  us  of  his  having  been 
knocked  off  his  horse  at  the  rising  of  the  London  appren- 
tices ;  t  for  which  he  is  in  great  esteem  among  us. 

Honest  old  Dick  Eeptile  is  the  third  of  our  society.  He  is 
a  good-natured  indolent  man,  who  speaks  little  himself,  but 
laughs  at  our  jokes  ;  and  brings  his  young  nephew  along  with 
him,  a  jouth  of  eighteen  years  old,  to  shew  him  good  company, 
and  give  him  a  taste  of  the  world.  This  young  fellow 
sits  generally  silent  ;  but  whenever  he  opens  his  mouth,  or 
laughs  at  anything  that  passes,  he  is  constantly  told  by  his 
uncle,  after  a  jocular  manner,  ^' Ay,  ay,  Jack,  you  young  "men 
think  us  fools  ;  but  we  old  men  know  you  are." 

The  greatest  wit  of  our  company,  next  to  myself,  is  a 
Bencher  of  the  neighbouring  Inn,  who  in  his  youth  frequented 
the  ordinaries  about  Charing  Cross,  and  pretends  to  have  been 
intimate  with  Jack  Ogle.  He  has  about  ten  distichs  of 
Hudibras  without  book,  and  never  leaves  the  club  until  he  has 
applied  them  all.  If  any  modern  wit  be  mentioned,  or  any 
town-frolic  spoken  of,  he  shakes  his  head  at  the  dulness  of  the 
present  age,  and  tells  us  a  story  of  Jack  Ogle. 

For  my  own  part,  I  am  esteemed  among  them,  because  they 
see  I  am  something  respected  by  others ;  though  at  the  same 
time  I  understand  by  their  behaviour,  that  I  am  considered  by 
them  as  a  man  of  a  great  deal  of  learning,  but  no  knowledo-e 
of  the  world ;  insomuch,  that  the  Major  sometimes,  in  the 
height  of  his  military  pride,  calls  me  the  Philosopher  :  and  Sir 
Jeoifrey,  no  longer  ago  than  last  night,  upon  a  dispute  what 

*  M2,r.ston  lloor  was  fouglit  July  2,  1644. 

f  July  14,   1647,  the  London  Apprentices  presented  a  petition  signed  by 
above  10,000  hands  ;  and  on  the  26th  they  forced  their  way  into  the  house 
threatening  members  until  their  demands  were  satisfied. 


230  THE    TATLEE.  [No.  132. 

day  of  the  month  it  was  then  in  Holland,  polled  his  pipe  ont 
of  his  mouth,  and  cried,  "  What  does  the  scholar  say  to  it  ?  " 

Our  club  meets  precisely  at  six  o'cloclc  in  ilic  evening  ;^  but 
I  did  not  come  last  night  until  half  an  hour  after  seven,  by 
which  means  I  escaped  the  battle  of  Naseby,  which  the  Major 
usually  begins  at  about  three-quarters  after  six  :  I  found  also, 
that  my  good  friend  the  Bencher  had  already  spent  three  of 
his  distichs  ;  and  only  waited  an  opportunity  to  hear  a  sermon 
spoken  of,  that  he  might  introduce  the  couplet  where  "  a 
stick"  rhymes  to  "ecclesiastic."  At  my  entrance  into  the 
room,  they  were  naming  a  red  petticoat  and  a  cloak,  by  which 
I  found  that  the  Bencher  had  been  diverting  them  with  a  story 
of  Jack  Ogle.f 

I  had  no  sooner  taken  my  seat,  but  Sir  Jeoffrey,  to  show  his 
good-will  towards  me,  gave  me  a  pipe  of  his  own  tobacco,  and 
stirred  up  the  fire.  I  look  upon  it  as  a  point  of  morality,  to  be 
obliged  by  those  who  endeavour  to  oblige  me  ;  and  therefore, 
in  requital  for  his  kindness,  and  to  set  the  conversation 
a-going,  I  took  the  best  occasion  I  could  to  put  him  upon 
telling  us  the  story  of  old  Gantlett,  which  he  always  does  with 
very  particular  concern.  He  traced  up  his  descent  on  both 
sides  for  several  generations,  describing  his  diet  and  manner  of 
life,  with  his  several  battles,  and  particularly  that  in  which  he 
fell.  This  Gantlett  was  a  gamecock,  upon  whose  head  the 
knight,  in  his  youth,  had  won  five  hundred  pounds,  and  lost 
two  thousand.  This  naturally  set  the  Major  upon  the  account 
of  Edge  Hill  fight,J  and  ended  in  a  duel  of  Jack  Ogle's. 

*  Clubs  at  tlie  Universities  met  at  six  till  1730. 

+  Jack  Ogle  was  a  man  of  great  extravagance,  and  a  noted  gamester.  He 
had  an  only  sister,  who  was  mistress  to  the  Duke  of  York.  This  sister  Ogle 
laid  under  very  frequent  contributions  to  supply  his  wants  and  support  his 
extravagance.  It  is  said  that  by  the  interest  of  her  royal  keeper,  Ogle  was 
placed  as  a  private  gentleman  in  the  first  troop  of  Foot  Guards,  at  that  time 
under  the  command  of  the  Duke  of  Monmouth.  To  this  era  of  Ogle's  life,  the 
story  of  the  red  petticoat  refers.  He  had  pawned  his  trooper  s  cloak,  and  to 
save  appearances  at  a  revicAv,  had  borrowed  his  landlady's  red  j^ctticoat,  which 
he  carried  rolled  up  en  crovpe  behind  him.  The  Duke  of  Sloumouth  noticed 
it,  and  willing  to  enjoy  the  confusion  of  a  detection,  gave  order  to  cloak  all, 
with  which  Ogle,  after  some  hesitation,  Avas  obliged  to  comply.  Although  he 
could  not  cloak,  lie  said  he  would  petticoat  with  the  best  of  them. 

+  The  battle  of  Edge  Hill  was  fought  October  23,  1642. 


}^o.  \%-2.]  OVR    CLrB.  231 

Old  Eeptile  was  extremely  attentive  to  all  that  was  said, 
though  it  was  the  same  he  had  heard  every  night  for  these 
twenty  years,  and,  upon  all  occasions,  winked  upon  his 
nephew  to  mind  what  passed. 

This  may  suffice  to  give  the  world  a  taste  of  our  innocent  con- 
versation, which  we  spun  out  until  about  ten  of  the  cLck,  when 
my  maid  came  with  a  lantern  to  light  me  home.  I  could  not 
but  reflect  with  myself,  as  I  was  going  out,  upon  the  talkative 
humour  of  old  men,  and  the  little  figure  which  that  part  of 
life  makes  in  one  who  cannot  employ  his  natural  propensity  in 
discourses  which  would  make  him  venerable.  I  must  own,  it 
makes  me  very  melancholy  in  company,  when  1  hear  a  young 
man  begin  a  story  ;  and  have  often  observed,  that  one  of  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  long  in  a  man  of  five-and-twenty,  gathers 
circumstances  every  time  he  tells  it,  until  it  grows  into  a  long 
Canterbury  tale  of  two  hours  by  that  time  he  is  threescore. 

The  only  way  of  avoiding  such  a  trifling  and  frivolous  old 
age  is,  to  lay  up  in  our  way  to  it  such  stores  of  knowledge  and 
observation,  as  may  make  us  useful  and  agreeable  in  our 
declining  years.  The  mind  of  man  in  a  long  life  will  become 
a  magazine  of  wisdom  or  folly,  and  will  consequently  discharge 
itself  in  something  impertinent  or  improving.  For  which 
reason,  as  there  is  nothing  more  ridiculous  than  an  old  triflin"- 
story-teller,  so  there  is  nothing  more  venerable,  than  one  who 
has  turned  his  experience  to  the  entertainment  and  advantage 
of  mankind. 

In  short,  we,  who  are  in  the  last  stage  of  life,  and  are  apt  to 
indulge  ourselves  in  talk,  ought  to  consider,  if  what  we  speak 
be  worth  being  heard,  and  endeavour  to  make  our  discourse 
like  that  of  Nestor,  which  Homer  compares  to  the  flowing  of 
honev  for  its  sweetness. 


232  THE   TATLEE.  [No.  133. 

ON  SILENCE. 

No.  133.    TUESDAY,  February  14,  17u9.     [Addison.] 

Dum  tacent,  clamant.  Tull. 

Their  Silence  pleads  aloud. 

SiLEXCE  is  sometimes  more  significant  and  sublime,  than 
the  most  noble  and  most  expressive  eloquence,  and  is  on  many 
occasions  the  indication  of  a  great  mind.  Several  authors 
have  treated  of  Silence,  as  a  part  of  duty  and  discretion  ;  but 
none  of  them  have  considered  it  in  this  light.  Homer  compares 
the  noise  and  clamour  of  the  Trojans  advancing  towards  the 
enemy,  to  the  cackling  of  cranes,  when  they  invade  an  army 
of  pigmies.  On  the  contrary,  he  makes  his  countrymen  and 
favourites,  the  Greeks,  move  forward  in  a  regular  and  deter- 
mined march,  and  in  the  depth  of  Silence.  I  find  in  the 
accounts,  which  are  given  us  of  some  of  the  more  Eastern 
nations,  where  the  inhabitants  are  disposed  by  their  constitu- 
tions and  climates  to  higher  strains  of  thought,  and  more 
elevated  raptures  than  what  we  feel  in  the  Northern  regions 
of  the  world,  that  Silence  is  a  religious  exercise  among  them. 
For  when  their  public  devotions  are  in  the  greatest  fervour, 
and  their  hearts  lifted  up  as  high  as  words  can  raise  them, 
there  are  certain  suspensions  of  sound  and  motion  for  a  time, 
in  which  the  mind  is  left  to  itself,  and  supposed  to  swell  with 
such  secret  conceptions,  as  are  too  big  for  utterance.  I  have 
myself  been  wonderfully  delighted  Avith  a  master-piece  of 
music,  w^hen  in  the  very  tumult  and  ferment  of  their  harmony, 
all  the  voices  and  instruments  have  stopped  short  on  a  sudden ; 
and  after  a  little  pause  recovered  themselves  again  as  it  were, 
and  renewed  the  concert  in  all  its  parts.  This  short  interval 
of  Silence  has  had  more  music  in  it,  than  any  the  same  space 
of  time  before  or  after  it.  There  are  two  instances  of  Silence 
in  the  two  greatest  poets  that  ever  wrote,  which  have  some- 
thing in  them  as  sulMime,  as  any  of  the  speeches  in  their  whole 


No.  133.]  ON    SILE>X'E.  233 

works.  The  first  is  that  of  Ajax,  in  the  eleventh  book  of  the 
Odyssey.  Ulysses,  who  had  been  the  rival  of  this  great  man 
in  his  life,  as  well  as  the  occasion  of  his  death,  upon  meeting 
his  shade  in  the  region  of  departed  heroes,  makes  his  submis- 
sion to  him  with  an  humility  next  to  adoration,  which  the 
other  passes  over  with  dumb,  sullen  majesty,  and  such  a 
Silence,  as  to  use  the  words  of  Louginus,  had  more  greatness 
in  it  than  any  thing  he  could  have  spoken. 

The  next  instance  I  shall  mention  is  in  Virgil,  where  the 
jioet  doubtless  imitates  this  Silence  of  Ajax  in  that  of  Dido  ; 
though  I  do  not  know  that  any  of  his  commentators  have 
taken  notice  of  it.  ^neas,  finding  among  the  shades  of 
despairing  lovers  the  ghost  of  her  who  had  lately  died  for  him, 
with  the  wound  still  fresh  upon  her,  addresses  himself  to  her 
with  expanded  arms,  floods  of  tears,  and  the  most  passionate 
professions  of  his  own  innocence,  as  to  what  had  happened ; 
all  which  Dido  receives  with  the  dignity  and  disdain  of  a 
resenting  lover  and  an  injured  queen  ;  and  is  so  far  from 
vouchsafing  him  an  answer,  that  she  does  not  give  him  a 
single  look.  The  poet  represents  her  as  turning  away  her 
face  from  him  while  he  spoke  to  her  ;  and,  after  having  kept 
her  eyes  some  time  upon  the  ground,  as  one  that  heard  and 
contemned  his  protestations,  flying  from  him  into  the  grove 
of  myrtle,  and  into  the  arms  of  another,  whose  fidelity  had 
deserved  her  love. 

I  have  often  thought  our  writers  of  tragedy  have  been  very 
defective  in  this  particular,  and  that  they  might  have  given 
great  beauty  to  their  works,  by  certain  stops  and  pauses  in 
the  representation  of  such  passions  as  it  is  not  in  the  power 
of  language  to  express.  There  is  something  like  this  in  the 
last  act  of  "  Venice  Preserved,"  where  Pierre  is  brousfht  to  an 
infamous  execution,  and  begs  of  his  friend,  as  a  reparation 
for  past  injuries,  and  the  only  favour  he  could  do  him,  to 
rescue  him  from  the  ignominy  of  the  wheel  by  stabbing  liim. 
As  he  is  going  to  make  this  dreadful  request,  he  is  not  able 
to  communicate  it  ;  but  withdraws  his  face  from  his  friend's 
ear,  and  bursts  into   tears.     The  melancholy   Silence   that 

r.  2 


231  THE    TATLER.  [Xo.  133. 

follows  lierenpon,  and  continues  until  lie  has  recovered  himself 
enough  to  reveal  his  mind  to  his  friend,  raises  in  the  spectators 
a  grief  that  is  inexpressible,  and  an  idea  of  snch  a  complicated 
distress  in  the  actor,  as  words  cannot  utter.  It  would  look 
as  ridiculous  to  many  readers,  to  give  rules  and  directions 
for  proper  Silences,  as  for  "penning  a  Whisper,"  but  it  is 
certain,  that  in  the  extremity  of  most  passions,  particularly 
surprise,  admiration,  astonishment,  nay,  rage  itself,  there  is 
nothing  more  graceful  than  to  see  the  play  stand  still  for  a 
few  moments,  and  the  audience  fixed  in  an  agreeable  suspense, 
during  the  Silence  of  a  skilful  actor. 

But  Silence  never  shews  itself  to  so  great  an  advantage,  as 
when  it  is  made  the  reply  to  calumny  and  defamation,  provided 
that  we  give  no  just  occasion  for  them.  We  might  produce 
an  example  of  it  in  the  behaviour  of  one,  in  whom  it  appeared 
in  all  its  majesty,  and  one,  whose  silence,  as  well  as  his  person, 
was  altogether  divine.  When  one  considers  this  subject  only 
in  its  sublimity,  this  great  instance  could,  not  but  occur  to 
me  ;  and  since  I  only  make  use  of  it  to  shew  the  highest 
example  of  it,  I  hope  I  do  not  offend  in  it.  To  forbear  reply- 
ing to  an  unjust  reproach,  and  overlook  it  with  a  generous, 
or,  if  possible,  with  an  entire  neglect  of  it,  is  one  of  the  most 
heroic  acts  of  a  great  mind:  and  I  must  confess,  when  I  reflect 
upon  the  behaviour  of  some  of  the  greatest  men  in  antiquity, 
I  do  not  so  much  admire  them,  that  they  deserved  the  praise 
of  the  whole  age  they  lived  in,  as  because  they  contemned  the 
envy  and  detraction  of  it. 

All  that  is  incumbent  on  a  man  of  worth,  who  suffers  under 
so  ill  a  treatment,  is  to  lie  by  for  some  time  in  silence  and 
obscurity,  until  the  prejudice  of  the  times  be  over,  and  his 
reputation  cleared.  I  have  often  read,  with  a  great  deal  of 
pleasure,  a  legacy  of  the  famous  Lord  Bacon,  one  of  the 
greatest  geniuses  that  our  own  or  any  country  has  produced. 
After  having  bequeathed  his  soul,  body,  and  estate,  in  the 
usual  form,  he  adds,  "My  name  and  memory  I  leave  to  foreign 
nations,  and  to  my  countrymen  after  some  time  be  passed  over." 
At  the  same  time  that  I  recommend  this  philosophy  to  others^ 


No.  131.]  CRUELTY    TO    ANIMALS.  235 

I  must  confess,  I  am  so  poor  a  proficient  in  it  myself,  that  if 
in  the  course  of  my  Lucubrations  it  happens,  as  it  has  done 
more  than  once,  that  my  paper  is  duller  than  in  conscience  it 
ought  to  be,  I  think  the  time  an  age  until  I  have  an  oppor- 
tunity of  putting  out  another,  and  growing  famous  again  for 
two  days. 


OEUELTY  TO  ANIMALS. 

No.  134:.     THUPtSDAY,  Febrl^ary  iG,  1709-10.     [Steele.] 

Quis  talia  fando 


JMyrmidonum,  Dolopamve,  aut  duri  miles  Ulyssei, 
Temperet  a  lacrymis  ?  Virg.  Jin.  ii.  8, 

Such  woes 


Not  ev^en  the  hardest  of  our  foes  could  hear, 
Nor  stern  Ulysses  tell  without  a  tear. 

.  I  WAS  awakened  very  early  this  morning  by  the  distant 
crowing  of  a  cock,  which  I  thought  had  the  finest  pipe  I  ever 
heard.  He  seemed  to  me  to  strain  his  voice  more  than 
ordinary,  as  if  he  designed  to  make  himself  heard  to  the 
remotest  corner  of  this  lane.  Having  entertained  myself  a 
little  before  I  went  to  bed  with  a  discourse  on  the  trans- 
migration of  men  into  other  animals,  I  could  not  but  fancy 
that  this  was  the  soul  of  some  drowsy  bell-man  who  used  to 
sleep  upon  his  post,  for  which  he  was  condemned  to  do 
penance  in  feathers,  and  distinguish  the  several  watches  of 
the  night  under  the  outside  of  a  cock.  AVhile  I  was  thinking 
of  the  condition  of  this  poor  bell-man  in  masquerade,  I  heard 
a  great  knocking  at  my  door,  and  was  soon  after  told  by  my 
maid,  that  my  worthy  friend  the  tall  black  gentleman,  who  fre- 
quents the  coffee-houses  hereabouts,  desired  to  speak  to  me. 
This  antient  Pythagorean,  who  has  as  much  honesty  as  any  man 
living,  but  good  nature  to  an  excess,  brought  me  the  following 
petition  ;  which  I  am  apt  to  believe  he  penned  himself,  the 
petitioner  not  being  able  to  express  his  mind  on  paper  under 


23(5  THE    TATLER.  [No.  134. 

his  present  form,  however  famous  he  might  have  been  for 
writing  verses  when  he  was  in  his  original  shape. 

"  To  Isaac  Bickerstaff,  Esquire,  Censor  of  Great-Britain. 

*^  The  humble  petition  of  Job  Chanticleer  in  behalf  of  him- 
self, and  many  other  poor  sufferers  in  the  same  condition, 

From  my  Coop  in  Clare  Market,  Fehruary  13,  1709. 

''  Sheweth, 

"  That  whereas  your  petitioner  is  truly  descended  of  the 
antient  family  of  the  Chanticleers,  at  Cock-hall  near  Rumford 
in  Essex,  it  has  been  his  misfortune  to  come  into  the  mercenary 
hands  of  a  certain  ill-disposed  person,  commonly  called  an 
higler,  who,  under  the  close  confinement  of  a  pannier,  has 
conveyed  him  and  many  othei'S  up  to  London  ;  but  hearing 
by  chance  of  your  worship's  great  humanity  towards  Robin- 
red-breasts  and  Tom-tits,  he  is  emboldened  to  beseech  you  to 
take  his  deplorable  condition  into  your  tender  consideration, 
who  otherwise  must  suffer,  with  many  thousands  more  as* 
innocent  as  himself,  that  inhuman  barbarity  of  a  Shrove- Tuesday 
persecution.  We  humbly  hope,  that  our  courage  and  vigilance 
may  plead  for  us  on  this  occasion. 

"  Your  poor  petitioner  most  earnestly  implores  your  im- 
mediate protection  from  the  insolence  of  the  rabble,  the 
batteries  of  cat-sticks,  and  a  painful  lingering  death. 

"  And  your  petitioner,  &c." 

Upon  delivery  of  this  petition,  the  worthy  gentleman,  who 
presented  it,  told  me  the  customs  of  many  wise  nations  of  the 
East,  through  which  he  had  travelled  ;  that  nothing  was  more 
frequent  than  to  see  a  Dervise  lay  out  a  whole  year's  income 
in  the  redemption  of  larks  or  linnets,  that  had  unhappily 
fallen  into  the  hands  of  bird-catchers  :  that  it  was  also  usual 
to  run  between  a  dog  and  a  bull  to  keep  them  from  hurting 
one  another,  or  to  lose  the  use  of  a  limb  in  parting  a  couple 
of  furious  mastiffs.  He  then  insisted  upon  the  ingratitude 
and  disingenuity  of  treating  in  this  manner  a  necessary  and 


No.  134.]  CRUELTY    TO    ANIMALS.  237 

domestic  aniaial,  that  has  made  the  whole  house  keep  good 
hours,  and  called  up  the  cook-maid  for  five  years  together. 
''  What  would  a  Turk  say,"  continued  he,  "  should  he  hear, 
that  it  is  a  common  entertainment  in  a  nation,  which  pretends 
to  be  one  of  the  most  civilized  of  Europe,  to  tie  an  innocent 
animal  to  a  stake,  and  put  him  to  an  ignominious  death,  who 
has  perhaps  been  the  guardian  and  proveditor  of  a  poor  family, 
as  long  as  he  was  able  to  get  eggs  for  his  mistress  ? " 

I  thought  what  this  gentleman  said  was  very  reasonable  ; 
and  have  often  wondered,  that  we  do  not  lay  aside  a  custom, 
which  makes  us  appear  barbarous  to  nations  much  more  rude 
and  unpolished  than  ourselves.  Some  French  writers  have 
represented  this  diversion  of  the  common  people  much  to  our 
disadvantage,  and  imputed  it  to  natural  fierceness  and  cruelty 
of  temper ;  as  they  do  some  other  entertainments  peculiar  to 
our  nation :  I  mean  those  elegant  diversions  of  bull-baiting 
and  prize-fighting,  with  the  like  ingenious  recreations  of  the 
Bear-garden.  I  wish  I  knew  how  to  ans\ver  this  reproach 
which  is  cast  upon  us,  and  excuse  the  death  of  so  many  inno- 
cent cocks,  bulls,  dogs,  and  bears,  as  have  been  set  together 
by  the  ears,  or  died  untimely  deaths,  only  to  make  us  sport. 

It  will  be  said,  that  these  are  the  entertainments  of  common 
people.  It  is  true  ;  but  they  are  the  entertainments  of  no 
other  common  people.  Besides,  I  am  afraid,  there  is  a  tincture 
of  the  same  savage  spirit  in  the  diversions  of  those  of  higher 
rank,  and  more  refined  relish.  Eapin  observes,  that  the 
English  theatre  very  much  delights  in  bloodshed,  which  he 
likewise  represents  as  an  indication  of  our  tempers.  I  must 
own,  there  is  something  very  horrid  in  the  public  executions 
of  an  English  tragedy.  Stabbing  and  poisoning,  which  are 
performed  behind  the  scenes  in  other  nations,  must  be  done 
openly  among  us,  to  gratify  the  audience. 

When  poor  Sandford*  was  upon  the  stage,  I  have  seen  him 

*  Sandford  was  an  excellent  actor  in  disagreeable  characters ;  he  had  a 
low  and  crooked  person,  and  such  bodily  defects  as  were  too  strong  to  be 
admitted  into  great  or  amiable  characters,  so  that  he  was  the  stage  villain,  not 
by  choice,  but  from  necessity. 


238  THE    TATLER.  [No.  134. 

groaning  upon  a  \Yheel,  stuck  with  daggers,  impaled  alive, 
calling  his  executioners,  with  a  dying  voice,  "  cruel  dogs  and 
villains  ! "  and  all  this  to  please  his  judicious  spectators,  who 
were  wonderfully  delighted  with  seeing  a  man  in  torment  so 
well  acted.  The  truth  of  it  is,  the  politeness  of  our  English 
stage,  in  regard  to  decorum,  is  very  extraordinary.  We  act 
murders,  to  shew  our  intrepidity  ;  and  adulteries,  to  shew 
our  gallantry  :  both  of  them  are  frequent  in  our  most  taking 
plays,  with  this  difference  only,  that  the  former  are  done  in 
the  sight  of  the  audience,  and  tlie  latter  wrought  up  to  such 
an  height  upon  the  stage,  that  they  are  almost  put  in  execution 
before  the  actors  can  get  behind  the  scenes. 

I  would  not  have  it  thought,  that  there  is  just  ground  for 
those  consequences  which  our  enemies  draw  against  us  from 
these  2^1'actices  ;  but  methinks  one  would  be  sorry  for  any 
manner  of  occasion  for  such  misrepresentations  of  us.  The 
virtues  of  tenderness,  compassion,  and  humanity,  are  those  by 
which  men  are  distinguished  from  brutes,  as  much  as  by 
reason  itself;  and  it  would  be  the  greatest  reproach  to  a  nation 
to  distinguish  itself  from  all  others  by  any  defect  in  these 
particular  ^•irtues.  For  which  reasons,  I  hope  that  my  dear 
countrymen  will  no  longer  expose  themselves  by  an  effusion 
of  blood,  whether  it  be  of  theatrical  heroes,  cocks,  or  any  other 
innocent  animals,  which  we  are  not  obliged  to  slaughter  for 
our  safet}^,  convenience,  or  nourishment.  When  any  of  these 
ends  are  not  served  in  the  destruction  of  a  living  creature,  I 
cannot  but  pronounce  it  a  great  piece  of  cruelty,  if  not  a  kind 
of  murder. 


No.  135.]  MINUTE    PIIILOSOPnERS.  239 

MINUTE   PHILOSOPHERS. 

Xo.  135.    SATURDAY,  February  18,  1709-10.    [Steele.] 

Quo'J  si  in  hoc  erro,  quod  animos  liomirium  immortales  esse  credani,  libenter 
erro  ;  iiec  mihi  hunc  errorem,  quo  delector,  dam  viv'o,  extorqueri  volo  :  sin 
mortuus,  ut  quidara  minuti  philosophi  censent,  nihil  sentiam  ;  non  vereor,  ne 
hunc  errorem  meum  ?/io/'^«u"  philosophi  irrideant. — Cicero,  De  Seuect.  cap.  ult. 

But  if  I  err  in  believing  that  the  souls  of  men  are  immortal,  I  willingly 
err  ;  nor  while  I  live  would  1  wish  to  have  this  delightful  error  extorted  from 
me  :  and  if  after  death  I  shall  feel  nothing,  as  some  minute  philosophers 
think,  I  am  not  afraid  lest  dead  philosophers  should  laugh  at  me  for  the 
error. 

Several  letters,  which  I  have  lately  received,  give  me 
information,  that  some  well-disposed  persons  have  taken 
offence  at  my  nsing  the  vfovdfree-ihi/ike/-  as  a  term  of  reproach. 
To  set,  therefore,  this  matter  in  a  clear  light,  I  must  declare, 
that  no  one  can  have  a  greater  veneration  than  myself  for  the 
free-thinkers  of  antiquity  ;  who  acted  the  same  part  in  those 
times,  as  the  great  men  of  the  reformation  did  in  several 
nations  of  Europe,  by  exerting  themselves  against  the  idolatry 
and  superstition  of  the  times  in  which  they  lived.  It  was  by 
this  noble  impulse  that  Socrates  and  his  disciples,  as  well  as 
all  the  philosophers  of  note  in  Greece,  and  Cicero,  Seneca, 
with  all  the  learned  men  of  Rome,  endeavoured  to  enlighten 
their  contemporaries  amidst  the  darkness  and  ignorance  in 
which  the  world  was  then  sunk  and  buried. 

The  great  points,  which  these  free-thinkers  endeavoured  to 
establish  and  inculcate  into  the  minds  of  men,  were  the  for- 
mation of  the  universe,  the  superintendency  of  Providence, 
the  perfection  of  the  Divine  Xature,  the  immortality  of  the 
sonl,  and  the  future  state  of  rewards  and  punishments.  They 
all  complied  with  the  religion  of  their  country,  as  much  as 
possible,  in  snch  particulars  as  did  not  contradict  and  pervert 
these  great  and  fundamental  doctrines  of  mankind.  On  the 
contrary,  the  persons  who  now  set  up  for  Free-thinkers,  are 
such  as  endeavour,  by  a  little  trash  of  words  and  sophistry,  to 


240  THE    TATLEE.  [Xo.  135. 

weaken  and  destroy  those  very  principles,  for  the  vindication  of 
whicli,  freedom  of  thought  at  first  became  laudable  and  heroic. 
These  apostates  from  reason  and  good  sense  can  look  at  the 
glorious  frame  of  nature,  without  paying  an  adoration  to  Him 
that  raised  it ;  can  consider  the  great  revolutions  in  the 
universe,  without  lifting  up  their  minds  to  that  superior 
Power  which  hath  the  direction  of  it ;  can  presume  to  censure 
the  Deity  in  his  ways  towards  men  ;  can  level  mankind  with 
the  beasts  that  perish  ;  can  extinguish  in  their  own  minds  all 
the  pleasing  hopes  of  a  future  state,  and  lull  themselves  into  a 
stupid  security  against  the  terrors  of  it.  If  one  were  to  take 
the  word  priestcraft  out  of  the  mouths  of  these  shallow 
monsters,  they  would  be  immediately  struck  dumb.  It  is  by 
the  help  of  this  single  term  that  they  endeavour  to  disappoint 
the  good  works  of  the  most  learned  and  venerable  order  of 
men,  and  harden  the  hearts  of  the  ignorant  against  the  very 
light  of  nature,  and  the  common  received  notions  of  mankind. 
We  ought  not  to  treat  such  miscreants  as  these  upon  the  foot 
of  fair  disputants  ;  but  to  pour  out  contempt  upon  them,  and 
speak  of  them  with  scorn  and  infamy,  as  the  pests  of  society, 
the  revilers  of  human  nature,  and  the  blasphemers  of  a  Being, 
whom  a  good  man  would  rather  die  than  hear  dishonoured. 
Cicero,  after  having  mentioned  the  great  heroes  of  knowledge 
that  recommended  this  divine  doctrine  of  the  immortality  of 
the  soul,  calls  those  small  pretenders  to  Avisdora,  who  declared 
against  it,  certain  minute pJiiJosojjhers,  using  a  diminutive  even 
of  the  word  Little,  to  express  the  despicable  opinion  he  had  of 
them.  The  contempt  he  throws  upon  them  in  another  passage, 
is  yet  more  remarkable  ;  where,  to  shew  the  mean  thoughts  he 
entertains  of  them,  he  declares  "  he  would  rather  be  in  the 
wrong  with  Plato,  than  in  the  right  with  such  company." 
There  is  indeed  nothing  in  the  world  so  ridiculous  as  one  of 
these  grave  philosophical  Free-thinkers,  that  hath  neither 
passions  nor  appetites  to  gratify,  no  heats  of  blood,  nor  vigour 
of  constitution,  that  can  turn  his  systems  of  infidelity  to  his 
advantage,  or  raise  pleasures  out  of  them  which  are  inconsis- 
tent with  the  belief  of  an  hereafter.    One  that  has  neither 


No.  135.]  :\rTXUTE    PTIILOSOrnEIlS.  241 

wit,  gallantry,  mirtli,  or  youth,  to  indulge  by  these  notions, 
but  only  a  poor,  joyless,  uncomfortable  vanity  of  distinguishing 
himself  from  the  rest  of  mankind,  is  rather  to  be  regarded  as  a 
mischievous  lunatic,  than  a  mistaken  pliilosopher.  A  chaste 
infidel,  a  speculative  libertine,  is  an  animal  that  I  should  not 
believe  to  be  in  nature,  did  I  not  sometimes  meet  with  this 
species  of  men,  that  plead  for  the  indulgence  of  their  passions 
in  the  midst  of  a  severe  studious  life,  and  talk  against  the 
immortality  of  the  soul  over  a  dish  of  coffee. 

I  would  fain  ask  a  minute  philosopher,  what  good  he 
proposes  to  mankind  by  the  publishing  of  his  doctrines  ? 
Will  they  make  a  man  a  better  citizen,  or  father  of  a  family  ; 
a  more  endearing  husband,  friend,  or  son  ?  will  they  enlarge 
his  public  or  private  virtues,  or  correct  any  of  his  frailties  or 
vices  ?  What  is  there  either  joyful  or  glorious  in  such 
opinions  ?  do  they  either  refresh  or  enlarge  our  thoughts  ?  do 
they  contribute  to  the  happiness,  or  raise  the  dignity,  of  human 
nature  ?  The  only  good,  that  I  have  ever  heard  pretended  to, 
is,  that  they  banish  terrors,  and  set  the  mind  at  ease.  But 
whose  terrors  do  they  banish  ?  It  is  certain,  if  there  were  any 
strength  in  their  arguments,  they  would  give  great  disturbance 
to  minds  that  are  influenced  by  virtue,  honour,  and  morality, 
and  take  from  us  the  only  comforts  and  supports  of  affliction, 
sickness,  and  old  age.  The  minds,  therefore,  which  they  set 
at  ease,  are  only  those  of  impenitent  criminals  and  malefactors, 
and  which,  to  the  good  of  mankind,  should  be  in  perpetual 
terror  and  alarm. 

I  must  confess,  nothing  is  more  useful  than  for  a  Free- 
thinker, in  proportion  as  the  insolence  of  scepticism  is  abated 
in  him  by  years  and  knowledge,  or  humbled  and  beaten  down 
by  sorrow  or  sickness,  to  reconcile  himself  to  the  general 
conceptions  of  reasonable  creatures  ;  so  that  we  frequently  see 
the  apostates  turning  from  their  revolt  towards  the  end  of  their 
lives,  and  employing  the  refuse  of  their  parts  in  promoting 
those  truths  which  they  had  before  endeavoured  to  invalidate. 

The  history  of  a  gentleman  in  France  *  is  very  well  known, 

*  No  one  appears  to  know  who  this  "gentleman  in  France "  was. 


242  THE    TATLER.  [Xo.  135. 

who  was  so  zealous  a  promoter  of  infidelity,  that  he  had  got 
together  a  select  company  of  disciples,  and  travelled  into  all 
parts  of  the  kingdom  to  make  converts.  In  the  midst  of  his 
fantastical  success  he  fell  sick,  and  was  reclaimed  to  such  a 
sense  of  his  condition,  that  after  he  had  passed  some  time  in 
great  agonies  and  horrors  of  mind,  he  begged  those  who  had 
the  care  of  l)urying  him,  to  dress  his  body  in  the  habit  of  a 
capuchin,  that  the  devil  might  not  run  away  with  it  ;  and,  to 
do  farther  justice  upon  himself,  desired  them  to  tie  an  halter 
about  his  neck,  as  a  mark  of  that  ignominious  punishment, 
which,  in  his  own  thoughts,  he  had  so  justly  deserved. 

I  vrould  not  have  persecution  so  far  disgraced,  as  to  wish 
these  vermin  might  be  animadverted  on  by  any  legal  penalties; 
though  I  think  it  would  be  highly  reasonable,  that  those  few 
of  them  who  die  in  the  professions  of  their  infidelity,  should 
have  such  tokens  of  infamy  fixed  upon  them,  as  might  dis- 
tinguish those  bodies  which  are  given  up  by  the  owners  to 
oblivion  and  putrefaction,  from  those  which  rest  in  hope,  and 
shall  rise  in  glory.  But  at  the  same  time  that  I  am  against 
doing  them  the  honour  of  the  notice  of  our  laws,  which  ought 
not  to  suppose  there  are  such  criminals  in  being,  I  have  often 
wondered,  how  they  can  be  tolerated  in  any  mixed  conversa- 
tions, while  they  are  venting  these  absurd  opinions  ;  and 
should  think,  that  if,  on  any  such  occasions,  half  a  dozen  of  the 
most  robust  Christians  in  the  company  would  lead  one  of  these 
gentlemen  to  a  pump,  or  convey  him  into  a  blanket,  they 
would  do  very  good  service  both  to  church  and  state.  I  do 
not  know  how  the  laws  stand  in  this  particular ;  but  I  ho^DC, 
whatever  knocks,  bangs,  or  thumps,  might  be  given  with  such 
an  honest  intention,  would  not  be  construed  as  a  breach  of  the 
peace.  I  dare  say,  they  would  not  be  returned  by  the  person 
who  receives  them  ;  for  whatever  these  fools  may  say  in  the 
vanity  of  their  hearts,  they  are  too  wise  to  risque  their  lives 
upon  the  uncertainty  of  their  opinions. 

When  I  was  a  young  man  about  this  town,  I  frequented  the 
ordinary  of  the  Black-horse  in  Holborn,  where  the  person  that 
usually  presided  at  the  table  was  a  rough  old-fashioned  gentle- 


^^0.  13.5.]  MINUTE    rillLOSOrllErvS.  ^4S 

man,  ayIio,  according  to  the  customs  of  those  times,  liad  been 
the  major  and  preacher  of  a  regiment.  It  happened  one  day 
that  a  noisy  young  ollicer,  bred  in  France,  was  venting  some 
new-fangled  notions,  and  speaking,  in  the  gaiety  of  his  humour, 
against  the  dispensations  of  Providence.  The  major,  at  first, 
only  desired  him  to  talk  more  respectfully  of  one  for  whom  all 
the  company  had  an  honour  ;  but,  finding  him  run  on  in  his 
extravagance,  began  to  reprimand  him  after  a  more  serious 
manner.  '^ Young  man,"  said  he,  ''do  not  abuse  your  bene- 
factor whilst  you  arc  eating  his  bread.  Consider  whose  air 
you  breathe,  whose  presence  you  are  in,  and  who  it  is  that  gave 
you  the  power  of  that  very  speech,  which  you  make  use  of  to 
his  dishonour."  The  young  fellow,  who  thought  to  turn 
matters  into  a  jest,  asked  him  "  if  he  was  going  to  preach  ?  " 
but  at  the  same  time  desired  him  "  to  take  care  what  he  said 
when  he  spoke  to  a  man  of  honour."  ''  A  man  of  honour  ! " 
says  the  major  ;  "  thou  art  an  infidel  and  a  blasphemer,  and  I 
shall  use  thee  as  such."  In  short,  the  quarrel  ran  so  high,  that 
the  major  was  desired  to  walk  out.  Upon  their  coming  into 
the  (jarden,  the  old  fellow  advised  his  antagonist  to  consider  the 
place  into  which  one  pass  might  drive  him  ;  but,  finding  him 
grow  upon  him  to  a  degree  of  scurrility,  as  believing  the  advice 
proceeded  from  fear  ;  "  Sirrah,"  says  he,  "  if  a  thunderbolt  does 
not  strike  thee  dead  before  I  come  at  thee,  I  shall  not  fail  to 
chastise  thee  for  thy  profaneness  to  thy  Maker,  and  thy  sauci- 
ness  to  his  servant."  Upon  this  he  drew  his  sword,  and  cried 
out  with  a  loud  voice,  "  The  sword  of  the  Lord  and  of 
Gideon ! "  which  so  terrified  his  antagonist,  that  he  was 
immediately  disarmed,  and  thrown  upon  his  knees.  In  this 
posture  he  begged  his  life  ;  but  the  major  refused  to  grant  it, 
before  he  had  asked  pardon  for  his  offence  in  a  short  ex- 
temporary prayer,  which  the  old  gentleman  dictated  to  him 
upon  the  spot,  and  which  his  proselyte  repeated  after  him  in 
the  presence  of  the  whole  ordinary,  that  were  now  gathered 
about  him  in  the  garden. 


244  THE    TATLER.  [No.  136. 

TOM  VARNISH. 

No.  136.    TUESDAY,  February  21,  17U9-10.     [Steele.] 

Depreudi  miseram  est :  Fabio  vel  judice  vincam. 

HoK.  1  Sat.  ii.  ver.  ult. 

To  bo  surpris'd,  is,  sure  a  -wretclied  tale, 
And  for  the  truth  to  Fabius  I  appeal. 

Because  I  have  a  professed  aversion  to  long  beginnings  of 
stories,  I  will  go  into  this  at  once,  by  telling  yon,  that  there 
dwells  near  the  Eoyal  Exchange  as  happy  a  couple  as  ever 
entered  into  wedlock.  These  live  in  that  mutual  confidence  of 
each  other,  which  renders  the  satisfaction  of  marriage  even 
greater  than  those  of  friendship,  and  makes  wife  and  husband 
the  dearest  appellations  of  human  life.  Mr.  Balance  is  a 
merchant  of  good  consideration,  and  understands  the  world, 
not  from  speculation,  but  practice.  His  wife  is  the  daughter 
of  an  honest  house,  ever  bred  in  a  family-way  ;  and  has,  from  a 
natural  good  understanding,  and  great  innocence,  a  freedom 
which  men  of  sense  know  to  be  the  certain  sign  of  virtue,  and 
fools  take  to  be  an  encouragement  to  vice. 

Tom  Varnish,  a  young  gentleman  of  the  Middle-Temple,  by 
the  bounty  of  a  good  father,  who  was  so  obliging  as  to  die,  and 
leave  him,  in  his  twenty-fourth  year,  besides  a  good  estate,  a 
large  sum  which  lay  in  the  hands  of  Mr.  Balance,  had  by  this 
means  an  intimacy  at  his  house ;  and  being  one  of  those 
hard  students  who  read  plays  for  the  improvement  in  the 
law,  took  his  rules  of  life  from  thence.  Upon  mature  delibera- 
tion, he  conceived  it  very  pi'oper,  that  he,  as  a  man  of  wit  and 
pleasure  of  the  town,  should  have  an  intrigue  with  his 
merchant's  wife.  He  no  sooner  thought  of  this  adventure,  but 
he  began  it  by  an  amorous  epistle  to  the  lady,  and  a  ftiithful 
promise  to  wait  upon  her  at  a  certain  hour  the  next  evening, 
when  he  knew  her  husband  was  to  be  absent. 

The  letter  was  no  sooner  received,  but  it  was  communicated  to 
the  husband,  and  produced  no  other  effect  in  him,  than  that  he 


No.  136.]  TOM    VARNISH.  245 

joined  with  his  wife  to  raise  all  the  mirth  they  could  out  of 
this  fantastical  piece  of  gallantry.  They  were  so  little  con- 
cerned at  this  dangerous  man  of  mode,  that  they  plotted  ways 
to  perplex  him  without  hurting  him.  Varnish  comes  exactly 
at  his  hour  ;  and  the  lady's  well-acted  confusion  at  his  entrance 
gave  him  opportunity  to  repeat  some  couplets  very  fit  for  the 
occasion  with  very  much  grace  and  spirit.  His  theatrical 
manner  of  making  love  was  interrupted  by  an  alarm  of  the 
husband's  coming  ;  and  the  wife,  in  a  personated  terror, 
beseeched  him,  "  if  he  had  any  value  for  the  honour  of  a  woman 
that  loved  him,  he  would  jump  out  of  the  window."  He  did 
so,  and  fell  upon  feather-beds  placed  on  purpose  to  receive 
him. 

It  is  not  to  be  conceived  how  great  the  joy  of  an  amorous 
man  is,  when  he  has  suffered  for  his  mistress,  and  is  never  the 
worse  for  it.  Varnish  the  next  day  writ  a  most  elegant  billet, 
wdierein  he  said  all  that  imagination  could  form  upon  the 
occasion.  He  violently  protested,  *•  going  out  of  the  window 
was  no  way  terrible,  but  as  it  was  going  from  her  ; "  with 
several  other  kind  expressions,  which  procured  him  a  second 
assignation.  Upon  his  second  visit,  he  was  conveyed  by  a 
faithful  maid  into  her  bed  chamber,  and  left  there  to  expect  the 
arrival  of  her  mistress.  But  the  wench,  according  to  her 
instructions,  ran  in  again  to  him,  and  locked  the  door  after 
her  to  keep  out  her  master.  She  had  just  time  enough  to 
convey  the  lover  into  a  chest  before  she  admitted  the  husband 
and  his  wife  into  the  room. 

You  may  be  sure  that  trunk  was  absolutely  necessary  to  be 
opened  ;  but  upon  her  husband's  ordering  it,  she  assured  him, 
"she  had  taken  all  the  care  imaginable  in  packing  up  the 
things  with  her  own  hands,  and  he  might  send  the  trunk 
abroad  as  soon  as  he  thought  fit."  The  easy  husband  believed 
his  wife,  and  the  good  couple  went  to  bed  ;  Varnish  having  the 
happiness  to  pass  the  night  in  his  mistress's  bedchamber  with- 
out molestation.  The  morning  arose,  but  our  lover  was  not 
well  situated  to  observe  her  blushes  ;  so  that  all  we  know  of 
his  sentiments  on  this  occasion  is,  that  he  heard  Balance  ask 


246  TEE   TATLEK.  [No.  187. 

for  the  key,  and  say,  ^'  he  would  himself  go  with  this  chest, 
and  have  it  opened  before  the  captain  of  the  ship,  for  the  greater 
safety  of  so  yalnable  a  lading." 

The  goods  were  hoisted  away  ;  and  Mr.  Balance,  marching  by 
his  chest  with  great  care  and  diligence,  omitted  nothing  that 
might  give  his  passenger  perplexity.  Bnt,  to  consummate 
all,  he  delivered  the  chest,  with  strict  charge,  "  in  case  they 
were  in  danger  of  being  taken,  to  throw  it  overboard,  for  there 
were  letters  in  it,  the  matter  of  which  might  vo  of  great  service 
to  the  enemy." 


EXCRESCENCES  OF  DISCOUESE. 

No.  137.    THURSDAY,  February  23,  17O0-10.    [Steele.] 

Ter  centum  tonat  ore  Deos,  Erebumque,  Cbausquc, 

Tergeminamqiie  Hecaten 

TiRG.  .^ri.  iv.  510. 

He  thrice  iiiA^okes  tli'  infernal  powers  j^rofonncl 
Of  Erebus  and  Chaos  ;  thrice  he  calls 
On  Hecate's  triple  form ■ 

Dick  Eeptile  and  I  sat  this  evening  later  than  the  rest  of 
the  club  :  and  as  some  men  are  better  company  when  only  with 
one  friend,  others  when  there  is  a  larger  number,  I  fonnd  Dick 
to  be  of  the  former  kind.  He  was  bewailing  to  me,  in  very 
just  terms,  the  offences  which  he  freqnently  met  with  in  the 
abuse  of  speech  :  some  use  ten  times  more  words  than  they 
need  ;  some  put  in  words  quite  foreign  to  their  purpose  ;  and 
others  adorn  their  discourses  with  oaths  and  blasphemies,  by 
way  of  ti-opes  and  figures.  What  my  good  friend  started 
dwelt  upon  me  after  I  came  home  this  evening,  and  led  me 
into  an  inquiry  with  myself,  Whence  should  arise  such  strange 
excrescences  in  discourse  ?  whereas  it  must  be  obvious  to  all 
reasonable  beings,  that  the  sooner  a  man  speaks  his  mind,  the 
more  complaisant  he  is  to  the  man  with  whom  he  talks  :  but, 
upon  mature  deliberation,  T  am  come  to  this  resolution,  that 


Xo.  137.]  EXCRESCENCES    OF    DISCOUHSE.  247 

for  one  man  ^Yho  speaks  to  be  understoocl,  there  are  ten  who 
talk  only  to  be  admired. 

The  antient  G-reeks  had  little  independent  syllables  called 
expletives,  which  they  brought  into   their  discourses  both  in 
verse  and  prose,  for  no  other  purpose  but  for  the  better  grace 
and  sound  of  their  sentences  aud  periods.     I  know  no  example 
but  this,  which  can  authorize  the  use  of  more  words  than  are 
necessary.     But  whether  it  be  from  this  freedom  taken  by  that 
wise  nation,  or  however  it  arises,  Dick  Reptile  hit  upon  a  very 
just  and  common  cause  of  offence  in  the  generality  of  people  of 
all  orders.     We  have  one  here  in  our  lane,  who  speaks  nothing 
without  quoting  an  authority  ;  for  it  is  always  with  him,  so 
and  so,  "as  the  man  said."     He  asked  me  this  morning,  how 
I  did,  "  as  the  man  said  ? "   and  hoped  I  would  come  now  and 
then  to  see  him,  "  as  the  man  said."     I  am  acquainted  with 
another,  who  never  delivers  himself  upon  any  subject,  but  he 
cries,  "  he  only  speaks  his  poor  judgment;  this  is  his  humble 
opinion  ;  as  for  his  part,  if  he  might  presume  to  offer  any  thing 
on  that  subject." — But  of  all  persons  who  add  elegances  and 
superfluities  to  their  discourses,  those  who  deserve  the  foremost 
rank  are  the  swearers  ;  and  the  lump  of  these  may,  I  think,  be 
very  aptly  divided  into  the  common  distinction  of  High  and 
Low.     Dulness  and  barrenness  of  thought  is  the  original  of  it 
in  both  these  sects,  and  they  differ  only  in  constitution  :  The 
Low  is  generally  a  phlegmatic,  and  the  High  a  choleric  cox- 
comb.    The  man  of  phlegm  is  sensible  of  the  emptiness  of  his 
discourse,  and  will  tell  you,  that,  "  I'fackins,"  such  a  thing  is 
true  :  or  if  you  warm  him  a  little,  he  may  run  into  a  passion, 
and  cry,  "  Odsbodikins,  you  do  not  say  right."     But  the  High 
affects  a  sublimity  in  dulness,  and  invokes  "  hell  and  damna- 
tion" at  the  breaking  of  a  glass,  or  the  slowness  of  a  drawer. 

I  was  the  other  day  trudging  along  Fleet-street  on  foot,  and 
an  old  army-friend  came  up  with  me.  AYe  were  both  going 
towards  Westminster  ;  and,  finding  the  streets  were  so  crowded 
that  we  could  not  keep  together,  we  resolved  to  club  for  a 
coach.  This  gentleman  I  knew  to  be  the  first  of  the  order  of 
the  clioleric.     I  must  confess,  were  there  no  crime  in  it,  nothing 

s 


248  THE    TATLER.  [No.  137. 

could  be  more  diverting  than  the  impertinence  of  the  High 
juror  :  for  whether  there  is  remedy  or  not  against  what  offends 
him,  still  he  is  to  shew  he  is  offended ;  and  he  must,  sure,  not 
omit  to  be  magnificently  passionate,  by  faUing  on  all  things  in 
his  way.  "We  Avere  stopped  by  a  train  of  coaches  at  Temple- 
bar.  "  What  the  devil  !  "  says  my  companion,  "  cannot  you 
drive  on,  coachman  ?  D — n  you  all,  for  a  set  of  sons  of  whores  ; 
you  would  stop  here  to  be  paid  by  the  liour  !  There  is  not 
such  a  set  of  confounded  dogs  as  the  coachmen,  unhanged  ! 

But  these  rascally  cits 'Ounds,  why  should  there  not  be  a 

tax  to  make  these  dogs  widen  their  gates  ?  Oh  !  but  the  hell- 
hounds move  at  last."     "  Ay,"   said  I,  ''  I  knew  you  would 

make  them  whip  on,  if  once  they  heard  you  " "  No,"  says 

he  "  but  would  it  not  fret  a  man  to  the  devil,  to  pay  for 
being  carried  slower  than  he  can  walk  ?  Look'ye  !  there  is  for 
ever  a  stop  at  this  hole  by  St.  Clement's  church.     Blood,  you 

dog  !     Hark'ye,  sirrah  ! Why,  and  be  d d  to  you,  do 

not  you  drive  over  that  fellow  ? Thunder,  furies,  and  dam- 
nation !  I  will  cut  your  ears  oflP,  you  fellow  before  there 

Come  hither,  you  dog  you,  and  let  me  wring  your  neck  round 
your  shoulders."  We  had  a  repetition  of  the  same  eloquence 
at  the  Cockpit,  and  the  turning  into  Palace-yard. 

This  gave  me  a  perfect  image  of  the  insignificancy  of  the 
creatures  who  practise  this  enormity  ;  and  make  me  conclude, 
that  it  is  ever  want  of  sense  makes  a  man  guilty  in  this  Icind. 
It  was  excellently  well  said,  "  that  this  folly  had  no  tempta- 
tion to  excuse  it,  no  man  being  born  of  a  swearing  constitu- 
tion." In  a  word,  a  few  rumbling  words  and  consonants 
clapped  together  without  any  sense,  will  make  an  accomplished 
swearer.  It  is  needless  to  dwell  long  upon  this  blustering 
impertinence,  which  is  already  banished  out  of  the  society  of 
well-bred  men,  and  can  be  useful  only  to  bullies  and  ///  tragic 
■writers,  who  would  have  sound  and  noise  pass  for  courage  and 
sense. 


No.  139.]  IMAGINARY    rilE-EMINEXCE.  249 

IMAGINARY  PEE-EMIXENCE. 

No.  130.    TUESDAY,  February  28,  1709-10.     [Steele.] 

Nihil  est  quod  credere  de  se 


Non  possit,  cum  laudatur  Diis  tequa  potestas. 

Juv.  Sat.  iv.  70. 

Nothing  so  monstrous  can  be  said  or  feign'd, 
But  with  belief  and  joy  is  entertain'd 
"When  to  her  face  a  giddy  girl  is  prais'd, 
By  ill-judg'd  flattery  to  an  angel  rais'd. 

"Whex  I  reflect  upon  the  many  nights  I  have  sat  up  for 
some  months  last  past,  in  the  greatest  anxiety  for  the  good  of 
my  neighbours  and  contemporaries,  it  is  no  small  discourage- 
ment to  me,  to  see  how  slow  a  progress  I  make  in  the  reforma- 
tion of  the  world.      But  indeed  I  must  do  my  female  readers 
the  justice  to  own,   that  their  tender  hearts  are  much  more 
susceptible  of  good  impressions,  than  the  minds  of  the  other 
sex.     Business  and  ambition  take  up  men's  thoughts  too  much 
to  leave  room  for  philosophy  :  but  if  you  speak  to  women  in  a 
style  and  manner  proper  to  approach  them,  they  never  fail  to 
improve  by  your  counsels.     I  shall,  therefore,  for  the  future, 
turn  my  thoughts  more   particularly   to   their  service ;  aud 
study  the  best  methods  to  adorn  their  persons,  and  inform 
their  minds  in  tlie  justest  methods  to  make  them  what  nature 
designed  them,  the  most  beauteous  objects  of  our  eyes,  and 
the  most  agreeable  companions  of  our  lives.     But,  when  I  say 
this,  I  must  not  omit  at  the  same  time  to  look  into  their  errors 
and  mistakes,  that  being  the  readiest  way  to  the  intended  end 
of  adorning  and  instructing  them.     It  must  be  acknowledged, 
that  the  very  inadvertences  of  this  sex  are  owing  to  the  other  ; 
for  if  men  were  not  flatterers,  women  could  not  fall  into  that 
general  cause  of  all  their  follies,  and  our  misfortunes,  their  love 
of   flattery.     Were    the    commendation    of    these    agreeable 
creatures  built  upon  its  proper  foundation,  the  higher  we  raised 
their  opinion  of  themselves,  the  greater  would  be  the  advan- 
tage to  our  sex  ;  but  all  the  topic  of  praise  is  drawn  from 

8  2 


250  THE    TATLEE.  [No.  139. 

very  senseless  and  extravagant  ideas  we  pretend  to  have  of 
their  beauty  and  perfection.  Thus,  when  a  young  man  falls  in 
love  with  a  young  woman,  from  that  moment  she  is  no  more 
Mrs.  Alice  such-a-one,  born  of  such  a  father,  and  educated  by 
such  a  mother  ;  but  from  the  first  minute  that  he  casts  his 
eyes  upon  her  with  desire,  he  conceives  a  doubt  in  his  mind, 
what  heavenly  power  gave  so  unexpected  a  blow  to  an  heart 
that  was  ever  before  untouched.  But  who  can  resist  fate  and 
destiny,  which  are  lodged  in  Mrs.  Alice's  eyes  ?  after  which  he 
desires  orders  accordingly,  w^hether  he  is  to  live  or  die ;  the 
smile  or  frown  of  his  goddess  is  the  only  thing  that  can  now 
either  save  or  destroy  him,  By  this  means,  the  well-humoured 
girl,  that  would  have  romped  with  him  before  she  had  received 
this  declaration,  assumes  a  state  suitable  to  the  majesty  he  has 
given  her,  and  treats  him  as  the  vassal  he  calls  himself.  The 
girl's  head  is  immediately  turned  by  having  the  power  of  life 
and  death,  and  takes  care  to  suit  every  motion  and  air  to  her 
new  sovereignty.  After  he  has  placed  himself  at  this  distance, 
he  must  never  hope  to  recover  familiarity,  until  she  has  had 
the  addresses  of  another,  and  found  them  less  sincere. 

If  the  application  to  women  were  justly  turned,  the  address 
of  flattery,  though  it  implied  at  the  same  time  an  admonition, 
would  be  much  more  likely  to  succeed.  Should  a  captivated 
lover,  in  a  billet,  let  his  mistress  know,  that  her  piety  to  her 
parents,  her  gentleness  of  behaviour,  her  prudent  oeconomy 
with  respect  to  her  own  little  affairs  in  a  virgin  condition,  had 
improved  the  passion  which  her  beauty  had  inspired  him  with, 
into  so  settled  an  esteem  for  her,  that  of  all  women  breathing 
he  wished  her  his  wife  ;  though  his  commending  her  for 
qualities  she  knew  she  had  as  a  virgin,  would  make  her  believe 
he  expected  from  her  an  answerable  conduct  in  the  character  of 
a  matron  ;  I  will  answer  for  it,  his  suit  would  be  carried  on 
with  less  perplexity. 

Instead  of  this,  the  generality  of  our  young  women,  taking 
all  their  notions  of  life  from  gay  w^ritings,  or  letters  of  love, 
consider  themselves  as  goddesses,  nymphs,  and  shepherdesses. 

Bv  this  romantic  sense  of  things,  all  the  natural  relations 


Xo.  139.]  IMAGINARY    TRE-EMIXEXCE.  251 

and  duties  of  life  are  forgotten  ;  and  our  female  part  of  man- 
kind are  bred  and  treated,  as  if  they  were  designed  to  inhabit 
the  happy  fields  of  Arcadia,  rather  than  be  wives  and  mothers 
of  old  England.  It  is,  indeed,  long  since  I  had  the  happiness 
to  converse  familiarly  with  this  sex,  and  therefore  have  been 
fearful  of  falling  into  the  error  which  recluse  men  are  very 
subject  to,  that  of  giving  false  representations  of  the  world, 
from  which  they  have  retired,  by  imaginaiy  schemes  drawn 
from  their  own  reflections.  An  old  man  cannot  easily  gain 
admittance  into  the  dressing-room  of  ladies  :  I  therefore 
thought  it  time  well-spent,  to  turn  over  Agrippa,  and  use  all 
my  Occult  Art,  to  give  my  old  Cornelian  ring  the  same  force 
with  that  of  Gyges,  which  I  have  lately  spoken  of.  By  the 
help  of  this  I  went  unobserved  to  a  friend's  house  of  mine,  and 
followed  the  chamber-maid  invisibly  about  twelve  of  the  clock 
into  the  bed-chamber  of  the  beauteous  Flavia,  his  fine  daughter, 
just  before  she  got  up. 

I  drew  the  curtains  ;  and  being  wrapped  up  in  the  safety  of 
my  old  age,  could  with  much  pleasure,  without  passion,  behold 
her  sleeping  with  Waller's  poems,  and  a  letter  fixed  in  that 
part  of  him  where  every  woman  thinks  herself  described. 
The  light  flashing  upon  her  face,  awakened  her  :  she  opened 
her  eyes,  and  her  lips  too,  repeating  that  piece  of  false  wit  in 
that  admired  poet, 

"  Such  Helen  was  :  and  who  can  blame  the  boy, 
That  in  so  bright  a  flame  consumxl  his  Troy  1  " 

This  she  pronounced  with  a  most  bewitching  sweetness  ;  but 
after  it  fetched  a  sigh,  that  methought  had  more  desire  than 
languishment  :  then  took  out  her  letter ;  and  read  aloud,  for 
the  pleasure,  I  suppose,  of  hearing  soft  words  in  praise  of  her- 
self, the  following  epistle  : 

''  Madam, 

"  I  sat  near  you  at  the  opera  last  night  ;  but  knew  no 
entertainment  from  the  vain  show  and  noise  about  me,  while  I 
waited  wholly  intent  upon  the  motion  of  your  bright  eyes,  in 


252  THE    TATLER.  [Xo.  139. 

hopes  of  a  glance,  that  might  restore  me  to  the  pleasures  of 
siglit  and  hearing  in  the  midst  of  beauty  and  harmony.  It  is 
said,  tlie  hell  of  the  accursed  in  the  next  life  arises  from  an 
incapacity  to  partake  the  joys  of  the  blessed,  though  they  were 
to  be  admitted  to  them.  Such,  I  am  sure,  was  my  condition 
all  that  evening  ;  and  if  you,  my  Deity,  cannot  have  so  much 
mercy,  as  to  make  me  by  your  influence  capable  of  tasting  the 
satisfactions  of  life,  my  being  is  ended,  which  consisted  only  in 
your  favour." 

The  letter  was  hardly  read  over,  when  she  rushed  out  of  bed 
in  her  wrapping  gown,  and  consulted  her  glass  for  the  truth  of 
his  passion.  She  raised  her  head,  and  turned  it  to  a  profile, 
repeating  the  last  lines,  ^'  My  being  is  ended,  which  consisted 
only  in  your  favour."  The  goddess  immediately  called  her 
maid,  and  fell  to  dressing  that  mischievous  face  of  hers,  with- 
out any  manner  of  consideration  for  the  mortal  who  had  offered 
up  his  petition.  Nay,  it  was  so  far  otherwise,  that  the  whole 
time  of  her  woman's  combing  her  hair  was  spent  in  discourse 
of  the  impertinence  of  his  passion,  and  ended  in  declaring  a 
resolution,  "  if  she  ever  had  him,  to  make  him  wait."  She  also 
frankly  told  the  favourite  gipsy  that  was  prating  to  her,  "  that 
her  passionate  lover  had  put  it  out  of  her  power  to  be  civil  to 
him,  if  she  were  inclined  to  it  ;  for,"  said  she,  "  if  I  am  thus 
celestial  to  my  lover,  he  will  certainly  so  far  think  himself 
disappointed,  as  I  grow  into  the  familiarity  and  form  of  a 
mortal  woman." 

I  came  away  as  I  went  in,  without  staying  for  other  remarks 
than  what  confirmed  me  in  the  opinion,  that  it  is  from  the 
notions  the  men  inspire  them  with,  that  the  women  are  so 
fantastical  in  the  value  of  themselves.  This  imaginary  pre- 
eminence which  is  given  to  the  fair  sex,  is  not  only  formed 
from  the  addresses  of  people  of  condition  ;  but  it  is  the  fashion 
and  humour  of  all  orders  to  go  regularly  out  of  their  wits,  as 
soon  as  they  begin  to  make  love.  I  know  at  this  time  three 
goddesses  in  the  New  Exchange ;  and  there  are  two 
shepherdesses  that  sell  gloves  in  Westminster  hall. 


Xo.  20.]         MISPLACED  ATTENTIONS.  253 


MISPLACED  ATTENTIONS. 

No.  20.     [Extra  Taller.]     TUESDAY,  Mauch  G,  1710. 

[Swift.]  * 

Ingenuas  didicisse  fideliter  artes 


Emollit  mores. — Ovid. 

To  have  learnt  the  ingenuous  arts 
faithfully  softens  the  manners. 

Those  inferior  duties  of  life  which  the  French  call  Jes  pctites 
morales,  or  the  smaller  morals,  are  with  us  distinguished  by  the 
name  of  good  manners,  or  breeding.  This  I  look  upon,  in  the 
general  notion  of  it,  to  be  a  sort  of  artificial  good  sense, 
adapted  to  the  meanest  capacities,  and  introduced  to  make 
mankind  easy  in  their  commerce  with  each  other.  Low  and 
little  understandings,  without  some  rules  of  this  kind,  would 
be  perpetually  wandering  into  a  thousand  indecencies  and  ir- 
regularities in  behaviour,  and  in  their  ordinary  conyersation 
fall  into  the  same  boisterous  familiarities,  that  one  observes 
amongst  them,  when  a  debauch  has  quite  taken  away  the  use 
of  their  reason.  In  other  instances,  it  is  odd  to  consider,  that, 
for  want  of  common  discretion,  the  very  end  of  good  breeding 
is  wholly  perverted,  and  civility,  intended  to  make  us  easy,  is 
employed  in  laying  chains  and  fetters  upon  us,  in  debarring  us 
of  our  wishes,  and  in  crossing  our  most  reasonable  desires  and 
inclinations. 

This  abuse  reigns  chiefly  in  the  country,  as  I  found  to 
my  vexation,  when  I  was  last  there,  in  a  visit  I  made  to  a 
neighbour,  about  two  miles  from  my  cousin.  As  soon  as  I 
entered  the  parlour,  they  forced  me  into  the  great  chair  that 
stood  close  by  a  huge  fire,  and  kept  me  there,  by  force,  till  I 
was  almost  stifled.  Then  a  boy  came  in  great  hurry  to  pull  off 
my  boots,  which  I  in  vain  opposed,  urging  that  I  must  return 
soon  after  dinner.     In  the  meantime  the  good  lady  whispered 

*  This  paper  should  be  hung  up  in  every  Squire's  hall  in  England. — 
Orrery. 


254  THE    TATLER.  [No.  20. 

her  eldest  daughter,  and  slipped  a  key  into  her  hand.  She 
returned  instantly  "with  a  beer  glass  half  full  of  aqua  miraliUs, 
and  syrup  of  gillyflowers.  I  took  as  much  as  I  had  a  mind  for, 
but  Madam  vowed  I  should  drink  it  off  (for  she  was  sure  it 
would  do  me  good,  after  coming  out  of  the  cold  air),  and  I 
was  forced  to  obey,  which  absolutely  took  away  my  stomach. 
When  dinner  came  in,  I  had  a  mind  to  sit  at  a  distance  from 
the  fire  ;  but  they  told  me,  it  was  as  much  as  my  life  was 
worth,  and  set  me  with  my  back  just  against  it.  Though  my 
appetite  was  quite  gone,  I  resolved  to  force  down  as  much  as  I 
could,  and  desired  the  leg  of  a  pullet.  "  Indeed,  Mr.  Bicker- 
staff,"  says  the  lady,  "  you  must  eat  a  wing  to  oblige  me,"  and 
so  put  a  couple  upon  my  plate.  I  was  persecuted  at  this  rate, 
during  the  whole  meal.  As  often  as  I  called  for  small-beer,  the 
master  tipped  the  wink,  and  the  servant  brought  me  a  brimmer 
of  October.  Some  time  after  dinner,  I  ordered  my  cousin's 
man,  who  came  with  me,  to  get  ready  the  horses ;  but  it  was 
resolved  I  should  not  stir  that  night ;  and  when  I  seemed 
pretty  much  bent  upon  going,  they  ordered  the  stable  door  to 
be  locked,  and  the  children  hid  away  my  cloak  and  boots.  The 
next  question  was,  *'  what  I  would  have  for  supper  ?  "  I  said 
I  never  ate  anything  at  night  :  but  was  at  last,  in  my  own 
defence,  obliged  to  name  the  first  thing  that  came  into  my 
head.  After  three  hours  spent  chiefly  in  apology  for  my  enter- 
tainment, insinuating  to  me,  "  that  this  was  the  worst  time  of 
the  year  for  provisions,  that  they  were  at  a  great  distance 
from  any  market,  that  they  were  afraid  I  should  be  starved, 
and  they  knew  they  kept  me  to  my  loss,"  the  lady  went,  and 
left  me  to  her  husband,  (for  they  took  special  care  I  should 
never  be  alone).  As  soon  as  her  back  was  turned,  the  little 
misses  ran  backwards  and  forwards  every  moment,  and  con- 
Btantly  as  they  came  in,  or  went  out,  made  a  courtesy  directly 
at  me,  which  in  good  manners  I  was  forced  to  return  with  a 
bow,  and  "your  humble  servant,  pretty  miss."  Exactly  at 
eight,  the  mother  came  up,  and  discovered  by  the  redness  of 
her  face,  that  supper  was  not  far  off.  It  was  twice  as  large  as 
the   dinner,  and  my  persecution   doubled   in   jiroportion.    I 


No.  20.]  MISrLACED    ATTEXTIONS.  255 

desired,  at  my  usual  hour,  to  go  to  my  repose,  and  was  con- 
dueted  to  my  chamber,  by  the  gentleman,  his  lady,  and  the 
whole  train  of  children.  They  importuned  me  to  drink  some- 
thing before  I  went  to-bed,  and  upon  my  refusing,  at  last  left 
a  bottle  of  stingo,  as  they  called  it,  for  fear  I  should  wake,  and 
be  thirsty  in  the  night.  I  was  forced  in  the  morning,  to  rise, 
and  dress  myself,  in  the  dark,  because,  they  would  not  suffer 
my  kinsman's  servant  to  disturb  me  at  the  hour  I  had  desired 
to  be  called.  I  was  now  resolved  to  break  through  all 
measures,  to  get  away,  and,  after  sitting  down  to  a  monstrous 
breakfast,  of  cold  beef,  mutton,  neats'  tongues,  venison  pasty, 
and  stale  beer,  took  leave  of  the  family  ;  but  the  gentleman 
would  needs  see  me  part  of  my  way,  and  carry  me  a  short  cut 
through  his  own  grounds,  which,  he  told  me,  would  save  half 
a  mile's  riding.  This  last  piece  of  civility  had  like  to  have 
cost  me  dear,  being  once  or  twice  in  danger  of  my  neck,  by 
leaping  over  his  ditches,  and  at  last  forced  me  to  alight  in  the 
dirt,  when  my  horse  having  slipped  his  bridle,  ran  away,  and 
took  us  up  more  than  an  hour  to  recover  him  again. 

It  is  evident,  that  none  of  the  absurdities  I  met  with  in  this 
visit,  proceeded  from  an  ill  intention,  but  from  a  wrong  judg- 
ment of  complaisance,  and  a  misapplication  of  the  rules  of  it. 
I  cannot  so  easily  excuse  the  more  refined  critics  upon  behaviour, 
who  having  professed  no  other  study,  are  yet  infinitely  defec- 
tive, in  the  most  material  parts  of  it.  Xed  Fashion  has  been 
bred  all  his  life  about  court,  and  understands  to  a  tittle  all  the 
punctilios  of  a  drawing-room.  He  visits  most  of  the  fine  women 
near  St.  James's,  and,  upon  all  occasions,  says  the  civilest  and 
softest  things  to  them  of  any  man  breathing.  To  Mr.  Isaac* 
he  owes  an  easy  slide  in  his  bow,  and  a  graceful  manner  of 
coming  into  a  room.  But  in  some  other  cases,  he  is  very  far 
from  being  a  well-bred  person  :  he  laughs  at  men  of  far 
superior  understanding  to  his  own,  for  not  being  so  well- 
dressed  as  himself,  despises  all  his  acquaintance  that  are  not 
quality,   and  in   public  places    has,  on   that   account,   often 

*  An  eminent  dancing  master  at  this  time. 


256  THE    TATLEU.  fNo.  144. 

avoided  taking  notice  of  some  of  the  best  speakers  in  the 
House  of  Commons.  He  rails  strenuously  at  both  universities, 
before  the  members  of  either,  and  never  is  heard  to  swear  an 
oath,  or  break  in  upon  morality,  or  religion,  but  in  the  com- 
pany of  divines.  On  the  other  hand,  a  man  of  right  sense, 
has  all  the  essentials  of  good  breeding,  though  he  may  be 
wanting  in  the  forms  of  it.  Horatio  has  spent  most  of  his 
time  at  Oxford.  He  has  a  great  deal  of  learning,  an  agreeable 
wit,  and  as  muoh  modesty,  as  serves  to  adorn,  without  conceal- 
ing his  other  good  qualities.  In  that  retired  way  of  living,  he 
seems  to  have  formed  a  notion  of  human  nature,  as  he  has 
found  it  described  in  the  writings  of  the  greatest  men,  not  as 
he  is  like  to  meet  with  it  in  the  common  course  of  life.  Hence 
it  is,  that  he  gives  no  offence,  that  he  converses  with  great 
deference,  candour,  and  humanity.  His  bow,  I  must  confess, 
is  somewhat  aukward  ;  but  then  he  has  an  extensive,  universal? 
and  unaffected  knowledge,  which  makes  some  amends  for  it. 
He  would  make  no  extraordinary  figure  at  a  ball  ;  but  I  can 
assure  the  ladies  in  his  behalf,  and  for  their  own  consolation, 
that  he  has  writ  better  verses  to  the  sex,  than  any  man  now 
living,  and  is  preparing  such  a  poem  for  the  press,  as  will 
transmit  their  praises,  and  his  own,  to  many  generations. 


EQUIPAGES. 

No.  144:.     SATURDAY,  March  11,  1709-10.     [Steele.] 

In  a  nation  of  liberty,  there  is  hardly  a  person  in  the  whole 
mass  of  the  people  more  absolutely  necessary  than  a  Censor. 
It  is  allowed,  that  I  have  no  authority  for  assuming  this  im- 
portant appellation,  and  that  I  am  Censor  of  these  nations  just 
as  one  is  chosen  king  at  the  game  of  '^  Questions  and  Com- 
mands :  "  but  if,  in  the  execution  of  this  fantastical  dignity,  I 
observe  upon  things  which  do  not  fall  within  the  cognizance  of 
real  authority,  I  hope  it  will  be  granted,  that  an  idle  man 


No.  144.1  EQUIPAGES.  257 

could  not  be  more  nsefullj  employed.  Among  all  the  iiTCgii- 
larities  of  which  I  have  taken  notice,  I  know  none  so  proper  to 
bo  presented  to  the  world  by  a  Censor,  as  that  of  the  general 
expense  and  affectation  in  equipage.  I  have  lately  hinted,  that 
this  extravagance  must  necessarily  get  footing  where  we  have 
no  sumptuary  laws,  and  where  every  man  may  be  dressed,  at- 
tended, and  carried,  in  what  manner  he  pleases.  But  my 
tenderness  to  my  fellow-subjects  will  not  permit  me  to  let  this 
enormity  go  unobserved. 

As  the  matter  now  stands,  every  man  takes  it  in  his  head 
that  he  has  a  liberty  to  spend  his  money  as  he  pleases.  Thus, 
in  spite  of  all  order,  justice,  and  decorum,  we,  the  greater 
number  of  the  queen's  loyal  subjects,  for  no  reason  in  the 
world  but  because  we  want  money,  do  not  share  alike  in  the 
division  of  her  majesty's  high  road.  The  horses  and  slaves  of 
the  rich  take  up  the  whole  street ;  while  we  peripatetics  are 
yery  glad  to  watch  an  opportunity  to  whisk  across  a  passage, 
very  thankful  that  we  are  not  run  over  for  interrupting  the 
machine,  that  carries  in  it  a  person  neither  more  handsome, 
wise,  or  valiant,  than  the  meanest  of  us.  For  this  reason,  were 
I  to  propose  a  tax,  it  should  certainly  be  upon  coaches  and 
chairs  :  for  no  man  living  can  assign  a  reason,  why  one  man 
should  have  half  a  street  to  carry  him  at  his  ease,  and  perhaps 
only  in  pursuit  of  pleasures,  when  as  good  a  man  as  himself 
wants  room  for  his  own  person  to  pass  upon  the  most  necessary 
and  urgent  occasion.  Until  such  an  acknowledgment  is  made 
to  the  public,  I  shall  take  upon  me  to  vest  certain  rights  in  the 
scavengers  of  the  cities  of  London  and  Westminster,  to  take 
the  horses  and  servants  of  all  sucli  as  do  not  become  or  deserve 
such  distinction^,  into  their  peculiar  custody.  The  offenders 
themselves  I  shall  allow  safe  conduct  to  their  places  of  abode 
in  the  carts  of  the  said  scavengers,  but  their  horses  shall  be 
mounted  by  their  footmen,  and  sent  into  the  service  abroad  : 
and  I  take  this  opportunity,  in  the  first  place,  to  recruit  the 
regiment  of  my  good  old  friend  the  brave  and  honest  Sylvius,* 

*  The  i^erson  here  alluded  to  was  Cornelius   Wood,   a  gentleman   of   an 
excellent  character  and  very  distinguished  military  merit. 


258  THE    TATLER.  [No.  T44. 

that  they  may  be  as  well  taught  as  they  ai'e  fed.  It  is  to  me 
most  miraculons,  so  imreasonable  an  usurpation,  as  this  I  am 
speaking  of,  should  so  loug  haye  been  tolerated.  AYe  haug  a 
poor  fellow  for  taking  auy  trifle  from  us  on  the  road,  and  bear 
with  the  rich  for  robbing  us  of  the  road  itself.  Such  a  tax  as 
this  would  be  of  great  satisfaction  to  us  who  walk  on  foot ;  and 
since  the  distinction  of  riding  in  a  coach  is  not  to  be  appointed 
according  to  a  man's  merit  or  service  to  his  countr}^,  nor  that 
liberty  given  as  a  reward  for  some  eminent  virtue,  we  should 
be  highly  contented  to  see  them  pay  something  for  the  insult 
they  do  us,  in  the  state  they  take  upon  them  while  they  are 
dranni  ly  us. 

Until  they  have  made  us  some  reparation  of  this  kind,  we 
the  Peripatetics  of  Great  Britain  cannot  think  ourselves  well 
treated,  while  every  one  that  is  able,  is  allowed  to  set  up  an 
Equipage. 

As  for  my  part,  I  cannot  but  admire  how  persons,  conscious 
to  themselves  of  no  manner  of  superiority  above  others,  can  out 
of  mere  pride  or  laziness  expose  themselves  at  this  rate  to 
public  view,  and  put  us  all  upon  pronouncing  those  three  terri- 
ble syllables,  "  Who  is  that  ?  "  When  it  comes  to  that  ques- 
tion, our  method  is,  to  consider  the  mien  and  air  of  the 
passenger,  and  comfort  ourselves  for  being  dirty  to  the  ankles, 
by  laughing  at  his  figure  and  appearance  who  overlooks  us.  I 
must  confess,  were  it  not  for  the  solid  injustice  of  the  thing, 
there  is  nothing  could  afford  a  discerning  eye  greater  occasion 
for  mirth,  than  this  licentious  huddle  of  qualities  and  characters 
in  the  equipages  about  this  town.  The  overseers  of  the  high- 
ways and  constables  have  so  little  skill  or  power  to  rectify  this 
matter,  tliat  you  may  often  see  the  equipage  of  a  fellow,  whom 
all  the  town  knows  to  deserve  hanging,  make  *a  stop  that  shall 
interrupt  the  lord  high  chancellor  and  all  the  judges  in  their 
way  to  Westminster. 

For  the  better  understanding  of  things  and  persons  in  this 
general  confusion,  I  have  given  directions  to  all  the  coach- 
makers  and  coach-painters  in  town,  to  bring  me  in  lists  of 
their  several  customers ;  and  doubt  not,  but  with  comparing 


Ko.  144.]  EQUirAGES.  269 

the  orders  of  each  man,  in  the  placing  his  arms  on  the  door  of 
his  chariot,  as  well  as  the  words,  devices,  and  cyphers,  to  be 
fixed  upon  them,  to  make  a  collection  which  shall  let  us  iuto 
the  natnre,  if  not  the  history,  of  mankind,  more  usefully  than 
the  curiosities  of  any  medalist  in  Europe. 

But  this  evil  of  vanity  in  our  figure,  with  many  others,  pro- 
ceeds fi'om  a  certain  gaiety  of  heart,  which  has  crept  into  men's 
very  thoughts  and  complexions.  The  passions  and  adventures 
of  heroes,  when  they  enter  the  lists  for  the  tournament  in 
romances,  are  not  more  easily  distinguishable  by  their  palfreys 
and  their  armour,  than  the  secret  springs  and  affections  of  the 
several  pretenders  to  show  amongst  us  are  known  by  their 
equipages  in  ordinary  life.  The  young  bridegroom  with  his 
gilded  cupids  and  winged  angels,  has  some  excuse  in  the  joy  of 
his  heart  to  launch  out  into  something  that  may  be  significant 
of  his  present  happiness.  But  to  see  men,  for  no  reason  iqmn 
earth  but  that  they  are  rich,  ascend  triumphant  chariots,  and 
ride  through  the  people,  has  at  the  hottom  nothing  else  in  it 
but  an  insolent  transport,  arising  only  from  the  distinction  of 
fortune. 

It  is  therefore  high  time  that  I  call  in  such  coaches  as  are 
in  their  embellishments  improper  for  the  character  of  their 
owners.  But  if  I  find  I  am  not  obeyed  herein,  and  that  I  can- 
not pull  down  those  equipages  already  erected,  I  shall  take 
upon  me  to  prevent  the  growth  of  this  evil  for  the  future,  by 
enquiring  into  the  pretensions  of  the  persons,  who  shall  here- 
after attempt  to  make  public  entries  with  ornaments  and 
decorations  of  their  own  appointment.  If  a  man,  who  believed 
he  had  the  handsomest  leg  in  this  kingdom,  should  take  a 
fancy  to  adorn  so  deserving  a  limb  with  a  blue  garter,  he  would 
justly  be  punished  for  offending  against  the  Most  Xoble  Order : 
and,  I  think,  the  general  prostitution  of  equipage  and  retinue 
is  as  destructive  to  all  distinction,  as  the  impertinence  of  one 
man,  if  permitted,  would  certainly  be  to  that  illustrious 
fraternity. 


260  THE    TATLER.  [Xo.  U5. 

THE  OGLEES. 

No.  145.    TUESDAY,  March  14,  1709-10.    [Steele.] 

Nescio  quis  teneros  oculus  mihi  fascinat  agnos 

ViRG.  Eel.  iii.  103. 

Ah  !  What  ill  eyes  bewitch  my  tender  lambs  ? 

This  evening  was  allotted  for  taking  into  consideration  a 
late  request  of  two  indulgent  parents,  touching  the  care  of  a 
young  daughter,  Avhoin  they  design  to  send  to  a  boarding- 
school,  or  keep  at  home,  according  to  my  determination  ;  but 
I  am  diverted  from  that  subject  by  letters  which  I  have  re- 
ceived from  several  ladies,  complaining  of  a  certain  sect  of 
professed  enemies  to  the  repose  of  the  fair  sex,  called  Oglers. 
These  are,  it  seems,  gentlemen  who  look  with  deep  attention  on 
one  object  at  the  play-houses,  and  are  ever  staring  all  round 
them  in  churches.  It  is  urged  by  my  correspondents,  that 
they  do  all  that  is  possible  to  keep  their  eyes  off  these  in- 
snarers  ;  but  that,  by  what  power  they  know  not,  both  their 
diversions  and  devotions  are  interrupted  by  them  in  such  a 
manner,  as  that  they  cannot  attend  to  either,  without  stealing 
looks  at  the  persons  whose  eyes  are  fixed  upon  them.  By  tliis 
means,  my  petitioners  say,  they  find  themselves  grow  insensibly 
less  offended,  and  in  time  enamoured  of  these  their  enemies. 
What  is  required  of  me  on  this  occasion  is,  that  as  I  love  and 
study  to  preserve  the  better  part  of  mankind,  the  females,  I 
would  give  them  some  account  of  this  dangerous  way  of 
assault ;  against  which  there  is  so  little  defence,  that  it  lays 
ambush  for  the  sight  itself,  and  makes  them  seeingly,  know- 
ingly, willingly,  and  forcibly,  go  on  to  their  own  captivity. 

This  representation  of  the  present  state  of  affairs  between 
the  two  sexes  gave  me  very  much  alarm  ;  and  I  had  no  more 
to  do,  but  to  recollect  what  I  had  seen  at  any  one  assembly  for 
some  years  last  past,  to  be  convinced  of  the  truth  and  justice 
of  this  remonstrance.     If  there  be  not  a  stop  put  to  this  evil 


Xo.  Uo.]  THE    OGLERS.  261 

art,  all  the  modes  of  address,  and  the  elegant  embellishments 
of  life,  ^Yhich  arise  out  of  the  noble  passion  of  love,  will  of 
necessity  decay.     Who  would  be  at  the  trouble  of  rhetoric,  or 
study  the  bo)i  mien,  when  his  introduction  is  so  much  easier 
obtained  by  a  sudden  reverence  in  a  down-cast  look  at  the 
meeting  the  eye  of  a  Mv  lady,  and  beginning  again  to  ogle  her 
as  soon  as  she  glances  another  vt^ay  ?     I  remember  very  well, 
when  I  was  last  at  an  opera,  I  could  perceive  the  eyes  of  the 
whole   audience  cast   into    particular  cross  angles  one  upon 
another,  without  any  manner  of  regard  to  the   stage,  though 
king  Latinus  was  himself  present  when  I  made  that  observa- 
tion.    It  was  then  very  pleasant  to  look  into  the  hearts  of  the 
whole  company  ;  for  the  balls  of  sight  are  so  formed,  that  one 
man's  eyes  are  spectacles  to  another  to  read  his  heart  with.  The 
most  ordinary  beholder  can  take  notice  of  any  violent  agita- 
tion in  the  mind,  any  pleasing  transport,  or  any  inward  grief, 
in  the  person  he  looks  at  ;  but  one  of  these  Oglers  can  see  a 
studied  indifference,  a  concealed  love,  or  a  smothered  resent- 
ment, in  the  very  glances  that  are  made  to  hide  those  disposi- 
tions of  thought.     The  naturalists  tell  us,  that  the  rattle-snake 
will  fix  himself  under  a  tree  wliere  he  sees  a  squirrel  playing  ; 
and,  when  he  has  once  got  the  exchange  of  a  glance  from  the 
pretty  wanton,  will  give  it  such  a  sudden  stroke  on  its  imagi- 
nation   that  though  it  may  play  from  bough  to  bough,  and 
strive  to  avert  its  eyes  from  it  for  some  time,  yet  it  comes 
nearer  and  nearer  by  little  intervals  of  looking  another  way, 
until  it  drops  into  the  jaws  of  the  animal,  which  it  knew 
gazed  at  it  for  no  other  reason  but  to  ruin  it.     I  did  not 
believe  this  piece  of  philosophy  until  that  night  I  was  just  now 
speaking  of ;  but  I  then  saw^  the  same  thing  pass  between  an 
ogler  and  a  coquette.    Mirtillo,  the  most  learned  of  the  former, 
had  for  some  time  discontinued  to  visit  Flavia,  no  less  eminent 
among  the  latter.     They  industriously  avoided  all  places  where 
they  might  probably  meet,  but  chance  brought  them  togetlier 
to  the  play-house,  and  seated  them  in  a  direct  line  over-against 
each  other,  she  in  a  front  box,  he  in  the  pit  next  the  stage.    As 
soon    as  Flavia  had  received  the  looks  of  the  whole  crowd 


262  THE    TATLEE.  [No.  145. 

below  her  with  that  air  of  insensibility,  which  is  necessary  at 
the  first  entrance,  she  began  to  look  round  her,  and  saw  the 
vagabond  IMirtillo,  who  had  so  long  absented  himself  from  her 
circle  ;  and  when  she  first  discovered  him,  she  looked  upon 
him  with  that  glance,  which  in  the  hmgnage  of  Ogiers  is  called 
the  scornful,  but  immediately  turned  her  observation  another 
way,  and  returned  upon  him  with  the  indifferent.  This  gave 
Mirtillo  no  small  resentment  ;  but  he  used  her  accordingly. 
He  took  care  to  be  ready  for  her  next  glance.  She  found  his 
eyes  full  in  the  indolent,  with  his  lips  crumpled  up,  in  the  pos- 
ture of  one  whistling.  Her  anger  at  this  usage  immediately 
appeared  in  every  muscle  of  her  face  ;  and  after  many  emotions, 
which  glistened  in  her  eyes,  she  cast  them  round  the  whole 
house,  and  gave  them  softnesses  in  the  face  of  every  man  she 
had  ever  seen  before.  After  she  thought  she  had  reduced  all 
she  saw  to  her  obedience,  the  play  began,  and  ended  their 
dialogue.  As  soon  as  the  first  act  was  over,  she  stood  up  with 
a  visage  full  of  dissembled  alacrity  and  pleasure,  with  which 
she  overlooked  the  audience,  and  at  last  came  to  him  ;  he  was 
then  placed  in  a  side-way,  with  his  hat  slouched  over  his  eyes, 
and  gazing  at  a  wench  in  the  side-box,  as  talking  of  that  gypsy 
to  the  gentleman  who  sat  by  him.  But,  as  she  fixed  upon  him, 
he  turned  suddenly  with  a  full  face  upon  her,  and,  with  all  the 
respect  imaginable,  made  her  the  most  obsequious  bow  in  the 
presence  of  the  whole  theatre.  This  gave  her  a  pleasure  not  to 
loe  concealed  ;  and  she  made  him  the  recovering,  or  second 
courtsy,  with  a  smile  that  spoke  a  perfect  reconciliation. 
Between  the  ensuing  acts,  they  talked  to  each  other  with  ges- 
tures and  glances  so  significant,  that  they  ridiculed  the  whole 
house  in  this  silent  speech,  and  made  an  appointment  that 
Mirtillo  should  lead  her  to  her  coach. 

The  peculiar  language  of  one  eye,  as  it  differs  from  anotlier 
as  much  as  the  tone  of  one  voice  from  another,  and  the  fascina- 
tion or  enchantment,  which  is  lodged  in  the  optic  nerves  of  the 
persons  concerned  in  these  dialogues,  is,  I  must  confess,  too 
nice  a  subject  for  one  who  is  not  an  adept  in  these  speculations  ; 
but  I  shall,  for  the  good  and  safety  of  the  fair  sex,  call  my 


No.  145.]  THE    COMPLAIXErvS.  263 

learned  friend  Sir  William  Read  to  my  assistance,  and,  by  the 
help  of  his  observations  on  this  organ,"^  acquaint  them  when 
the  eye  is  to  be  believed,  and  when  distrusted.  On  the  con- 
trarv,  I  shall  conceal  the  true  meanim>'  of  the  looks  of  ladies, 
and  indulge  in  them  all  the  art  they  can  acquire  in  the 
management  of  their  glances  :  all  which  is  but  too  little 
against  creatures  who  triumph  in  falsehood,  and  begin  to  for- 
swear with  their  eyes,  when  their  tongues  can  be  no  longer 
believed. 


THE  COMPLAIXERS. 

Ko.  146.     THURSDAY,  March   IG,  1700-10.     [Addisox.] 

Permittes  ipsis  expendere  nuiriinibup,  quid 
Conveniat  nobis,  rebusque  sit  utile  nostris. 
Nam  pro  jucundis  aptissima  quEeque  dabunt  Dii. 
Carior  est  illis  homo,  quam  sibi.     Nos  animorum 
Impulsu,  et  cjeca  magnaque  cupidine  ducti, 
Conjugium  petimus,  partumque  uxoris  ;  at  illis 
Notum,  qui  pueri,  qualisque  futura  sit  uxor. 

JuY.  Sat.  x,  347,  et  scq. 

Intrust  thy  fortune  to  the  Powers  above  ; 
Leave  them  to  manage  for  thee,  and  to  grant 
What  their  unerring  wisdom  sees  thee  want  ; 
In  goodness  as  in  greatness  they  excel  : 
Ah  !  that  we  lov'd  ourselves  but  half  so  well  I 
We,  blindly  by  our  headstrong  j)assions  led, 
Are  hot  for  action,  and  desire  to  wed  ; 
Then  wish  for  heirs,  but  to  the  gods  alone 
Our  future  offspring  and  our  wives  are  known. 

Amoxg  the  various  sets  of  correspondents  who  apply  to  me 
for  advice,  and  send  up  their  cases  from  all  parts  of  Great 
Britain,  there  are  none  who  are  more  importunate  with  me, 
and  whom  I  am  inclined  to  answer,  than  the  Complainers. 
One  of  them  dates   his  letter  to   me  from   the  banks  of  a 

*  "  A  short  but  exact  Account  of  all  the  Diseases  incident  to  the  Eyes, 
■with  the  Causes,  Symptoms,  and  Cures.  Also  practical  Observations  upon 
some  extraordinary  Diseases  of  the  Eyes."  By  Sir  William  Read,  her 
Majesty's  oculist,  and  operator  in  the  eyes  in  ordinary. 

T 


264  THE    TATLEE.  [No.  146. 

purling  stream,  where  lie  used  to  ruminate  in  solitude 
upon  the  divine  Clarissa,  and  where  he  is  now  looking  about 
for  a  convenient  leap,  which  he  tells  me  he  is  resolved  to 
take,  unless  I  support  him  under  the  loss  of  that  charming 
perjured  woman.  Poor  Lavinia  presses  as  much  for  consolation 
on  the  other  side,  and  is  reduced  to  such  an  extremity  of  despair 
by  the  inconstancy  of  Philander,  that  she  tells  me  she  writes 
her  letter  with  her  pen  in  one  hand,  and  her  garter  in  the 
other.  A  gentleman  of  an  ancient  family  in  Norfolk  is  almost 
out  of  his  wits  upon  the  account  of  a  greyhound,  that,  after 
having  been  his  inseparable  companion  for  ten  years,  is  at  last 
run  mad.  Another,  who  I  believe  is  serious,  complains  to  me, 
in  a  very  moving  manner,  of  the  loss  of  a  wife  ;  and  another, 
in  terms  still  more  moving,  of  a  purse  of  money  that  was  taken 
from  him  on  Bagshot-heath,  and  which,  he  tells  me,  would  not 
have  troubled  him,  if  he  had  given  it  to  the  poor.  In  short, 
there  is  scarce  a  calamity  in  human  life  that  has  not  produced 
me  a  letter. 

It  is  indeed  wonderful  to  consider,  how  men  are  able  to 
raise  affliction  to  tliemselves  out  of  every  thing.  Lands  and 
houses,  sheep  and  oxen,  can  convey  happiness  and  misery  into 
the  hearts  of  reasonable  creatures.  Nay,  I  have  known  a  muff, 
a  scarf,  or  a  tipi)et,  become  a  solid  blessing  or  misfortune. 
A  lap-dog  has  broke  the  hearts  of  thousands.  Flavia,  who 
had  buried  five  children  and  two  husbands,  was  never  able  to 
get  over  the  loss  of  her  parrot.  How  often  has  a  divine 
creature  been  thrown  into  a  fit  by  a  neglect  at  a  ball  or  an 
assembly  ?  Mopsa  has  kept  her  chamber  ever  since  the  last 
masquerade,  and  is  in  greater  danger  of  her  life  upon  being 
left  out  of  it,  than  Clarinda  from  the  violent  cold  which  she 
caught  at  it.  Nor  are  these  dear  creatures  the  only  suff'erers 
by  such  imaginary  calamities.  Many  an  author  has  been 
dejected  at  the  censure  of  one  whom  he  ever  looked  upon  as 
an  idiot :  and  many  an  hero  cast  into  a  fit  of  melancholy, 
because  the  rabble  have  not  hooted  at  him  as  he  passed  through 
the  streets.  Theron  places  all  his  happiness  in  a  running 
horse,  Sulfenus  in  a  gilded  chariot,  Fulvius  in  a  blue  string, 


No.  U6.]  THE    COMrLAINERS.  265 

and  Florio  in  a  tulip-root.  Ifc  would  be  endless  to  enumerate 
the  many  fantastical  afflictions  that  disturb  mankind  ;  but  as 
a  misery  is  not  to  be  measured  from  the  nature  of  the  evil, 
but  from  the  temper  of  the  sufferer,  I  shall  present  my  readers, 
who  are  unhappy  either  in  reality  or  imagination,  with  an 
allegory,  for  which  I  am  indebted  to  the  great  father  and 
prince  of  poets. 

As  I  was  sitting  after  dinner  in  my  elbow-chair,  I  took  up 
Homer,  and  dipped  into  that  famous  speech  of  Achilles  to 
Priam,*  in  which  he  tells  him,  that  Jupiter  has  by  him  two 
great  vessels,  the  one  filled  with  Blessings,  and  the  other  with 
Misfortunes  :  out  of  which  he  mingles  a  composition  for  every 
man  that  comes  into  the  world.  This  passage  so  exceedingly 
pleased  me,  that,  as  I  fell  insensibly  into  my  afternoon's 
slumber,  it  wrought  my  imagination  into  the  following  dream. 

When  Jupiter  took  into  his  hands  the  government  of  the 
world,  the  several  parts  of  nature  with  the  presiding  deities 
did  homage  to  him.  One  presented  him  with  a  mountain  of 
winds,  another  with  a  magazine  of  hail,  and  a  third  with  a  pile 
of  thunder-bolts.  The  stars  offered  up  their  influences  ;  Ocean 
gave  in  his  trident.  Earth  her  fruits,  and  the  Sun  his  seasons. 
Among  the  several  deities  who  came  to^  make  their  court  on 
this  occasion,  the  Destinies  advanced  with  two  great  tuns  car- 
ried before  them,  one  of  which  they  fixed  at  the  right  hand  of 
Jupiter,  as  he  sat  upon  his  throne,  and  the  other  on  his  left. 
The  first  was  filled  with  all  the  blessings,  and  the  other  with 
all  the  calamities  of  human  life.  Jupiter,  in  the  beginning  of 
his  reign,  finding  the  world  much  more  innocent  than  it  is  in 
this  iron  age,  poured  very  plentifully  out  of  the  tun  that  stood 
at  his  right-hand  ;  but,  as  mankind  degenerated,  and  became 

*  Two  urns  by  Jove's  liigli  throne  have  ever  stood, 
The  source  of  evil  one,  and  one  of  good  ; 
From  thence  the  cup  of  mortal  man  he  fills, 
Blessings  to  those,  to  those  distributes  ills ; 
To  most  he  mingles  both  :  the  wretch  decreed 
To  taste  the  bad,  unmix'd,  is  curst  indeed  ; 
Pursu'd  by  wrongs,  by  meagre  famine  driven, 
He  wanders,  outcast  both  of  earth  and  heaven. 

Pope's  Horn.  II.  xiv.  ver.  863. 

T   2 


26G  THE    TATl.ER.  [Xo.  U6. 

unworthy  of  his  blessings,  he  set  abroach  the  other  vessel,  that 
filled  the  world  with  pain  and  poverty,  battles  and  distempers, 
jealousy  and  falsehood,  intoxicating  pleasures  and  untimely 
deaths. 

He  was  at  length  so  very  much  incensed  at  the  great  de- 
pravation of  human  nature,  and  the  repeated  provocations 
which  he  received  from  all  parts  of  the  earth,  that,  having 
resolved  to  destroy  the  whole  species,  except  Deucalion  and 
Pyrrlia,  he  commanded  the  Destinies  to  gather  up  the  blessings 
which  he  had  thrown  away  upon  the  sons  of  men,  and  lay 
them  up  until  the  world  should  be  inhabited  by  a  more  virtuous 
and  deserving  race  of  mortals. 

The  three  Sisters  immediately  repaired  to  the  earth,  in 
search  of  the  several  blessings  that  had  been  scattered  on  it  ; 
but  found  the  task  which  was  enjoined  them,  to  be  much  more 
difficult  than  they  imagined.  The  first  places  they  resorted  to, 
as  the  most  likely  to  succeed  in,  were  cities,  palaces,  and 
courts  ;  but,  instead  of  meeting  with  what  they  looked  for 
here,  they  found  nothing  but  envy,  repining,  uneasiness,  and 
the  like  bitter  ingredients  of  the  left-hand  vessel.  Whereas, 
to  their  great  surprise,  they  discovered  content,  cheerfulness, 
health,  innocence,  and  other  the  most  substantial  blessings  of 
life,  in  cottages,  shades,  and  solitudes. 

There  was  another  circumstance  no  less  unexpected  than 
the  former,  and  which  gave  them  very  great  perplexity  in  the 
discharge  of  the  trust  which  Jupiter  had  committed  to  them. 
They  observed,  that  several  blessings  had  degenerated  into 
calamities,  and  that  several  calamities  had  improved  into 
blessings,  according  as  they  fell  into  the  possession  of  wise  or 
foolish  men.  They  often  found  power,  with  so  much  insolence 
and  impatience  cleaving  to  it,  that  it  became  a  misfortune  to 
the  person  on  whom  it  was  conferred.  Youth  had  often  dis- 
tempers growing  about  it,  worse  than  the  infirmities  of  old 
age.  Wealth  was  often  united  to  such  a  sordid  avarice,  as 
made  it  the  most  uncomfortable  and  painful  kind  of  poverty. 
On  the  contrary,  they  often  found  pain  made  glorious  by  for- 
titude,  poverty  lost   in   content,  deformity   beautified    with 


No.  H6.]  THE    COMPLAINERS.  267 

Tirfcue.  Ill  a  word,  the  blessings  were  often  like  good  fruits 
planted  in  a  bad  soil,  that  by  degrees  fall  off  from  their  natural 
relish,  into  tastes  altogether  insipid  or  unwholesome  ;  and  the 
calamities,  like  harsh  fruits,  cultivated  in  a  good  soil,  and 
enriched  by  proper  grafts  and  inoculations,  until  they  swell 
with  generous  and  delightful  juices. 

There  was  still  a  third  circumstance  that  occasioned  as  great 
a  surprise  to  the  three  Sisters  as  either  of  the  foregoing,  when 
they  discovered  several  blessings  and  calamities  which  had 
never  been  in  either  of  the  tuns  that  stood  by  the  throne  of 
Jupiter,  and  were  nevertheless  as  great  occasions  of  happiness 
or  misery  as  any  there.  These  were  that  spurious  crop  of 
blessings  and  calamities  which  were  never  sown  by  the  hand 
of  the  Deity,  but  grow  of  themselves  out  of  the  fancies  and 
dispositions  of  human  creatures.  Such  are  dress,  titles,  place, 
equipage,  false  shame,  and  groundless  fear,  with  the  like  vain 
imaginations,  that  shoot  up  in  trifling,  weak,  and  irresolute 
minds. 

The  Destinies  finding  themselves  in  so  great  a  perplexity, 
concluded  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  them  to  execute  the 
commands  that  had  been  given  them,  according  to  their  first 
intention  ;  for  which  reason  they  agreed  to  throw  all  the 
blessings  and  calamities  together  into  one  large  vessel,  and  in 
that  manner  offer  them  up  at  the  feet  of  Jupiter. 

This  was  performed  accordingly  ;  the  Eldest  Sister  presenting 
herself  before  the  vessel,  and  introducing  it  with  an  apology 
for  what  they  had  done  : 

*  0  Jupiter,'  says  she,  '  we  have  gathered  together  all  the 
good  and  evil,  the  comforts  and  distresses  of  human  life,  which 
we  thus  present  before  thee  in  one  promiscuous  heap.  AYe 
beseech  thee,  that  thou  thyself  wilt  sort  them  out  for  the  future 
as  in  thy  wisdom  thou  shalt  think  fit.  For  we  acknowledge, 
that  there  is  none  besides  thee  that  can  judge  what  will 
occasion  grief  or  joy  in  the  heart  of  a  human  creature,  and 
what  will  prove  a  blessing  or  a  calamity  to  the  person  on  whom 
it  is  bestowed.' 


2G8  THE    TATLER.  [No.  148. 

KICKSHAWS. 

Ko.  148.    TUESDAY,  March  21,  1709-10.     [Addison.] 

Gustus  elementa  per  omnia  quadrant, 


Nuuquam  animo  pretiis  obstantibus 


Juv.  Sat.  xi.  14. 


They  ransack  every  element  for  choice 
Of  every  fish  and  fowl,  at  any  price. 

Having  intimated  in  my  last  paper,  that  I  design  to  take 
under  my  inspection  the  diet  of  this  great  city,  I  shall  begin 
with  a  yery  earnest  and  serions  exhortation  to  all  my  well- 
disposed  readers,  that  they  would  return  to  the  food  of  their 
forefathers,  and  reconcile  themselves  to  beef  and  mutton. 
This  was  the  diet  which  bred  that  hardy  race  of  mortals  who 
won  the  fields  of  Cressy  and  x\gincourt.  I  need  not  go  up  so 
high  as  the  history  of  Guy,  earl  of  Warwick,  who  is  well  known 
to  have  eaten  up  a  dun  cow  of  his  own  killing.  The  renowned 
king  Arthur  is  generally  looked  upon  as  the  first  who  ever  sat 
down  to  a  whole  roasted  ox,  which  was  certainly  the  best  way 
to  preserve  the  gravy  ;  and  it  is  farther  added,  that  he  and  his 
knights  sat  about  it  at  his  round  table,  and  usually  consumed 
it  to  the  very  bones  before  they  would  enter  upon  any  debate 
of  moment.  The  Black  Prince  was  a  professed  lover  of  the 
Brisket  ;  not  to  mention  the  history  of  the  Surloin,  or  the 
institution  of  the  order  of  Beef-eaters  ;  which  are  all  so  many 
evident  and  undeniable  marks  of  the  great  respect,  which  our 
warlike  predecessors  have  paid  to  this  excellent  food.  The 
tables  of  the  ancient  gentry  of  this  nation  were  covered  thrice 
a  day  with  hot  roast  beef  ;  and  1  am  credibly  nformed,  by  an 
antiquary  who  has  searched  the  registers  in  which  the  bills  of 
fare  of  the  court  are  recorded,  that  instead  of  tea  and  bread 
and  butter,  which  have  prevailed  of  late  years,  the  maids  of 
honour  in  Queen  Elizabeth's  time  were  allowed  three  rumps  of 
beef  for  their  breakfast.  Mutton  has  likewise  been  in  great 
repute   among   our    vahant   countrymen ;   but   was   formerly 


No.  U8.]  KICKSHAWS.  2G9 

observed  to  be  the  food  rather  of  men  of  nice  and  delicate 
appetites,  than  those  of  stroni^  and  robust  constitutions.  For 
which  reason,  even  to  this  da}',  we  use  the  word  SJieep-liter  as 
a  term  of  reproach,  as  we  do  Beef-eater  in  a  respectful  and 
honourable  sense.  As  for  the  flesh  of  lamb,  veal,  chicken,  and 
other  animals  under  age,  they  were  the  invention  of  sickly  and 
degenerate  palates,  according  to  that  wholesome  remark  of 
Daniel  the  historian  ;  who  takes  notice,  that  in  all  taxes  upon 
provisions,  during  the  reigns  of  several  of  our  kings,  there  is 
nothing  mentioned  besides  the  flesh  of  such  fowl  and  cattle  as 
were  arrived  at  their  full  growth,  and  were  mature  for 
slaughter.  The  common  people  of  this  kingdom  do  still  keep 
up  the  taste  of  their  ancestors  ;  and  it  is  to  this  that  we,  in  a 
great  measure,  owe  the  unparalleled  victories  that  have  been 
gained  in  this  reign  :  for  I  would  desire  my  reader  to  consider, 
what  work  our  countrymen  would  have  made  at  Blenheim 
and  Ramillies,  if  they  had  been  fed  with  fricassees  and  ragouts. 

For  this  reason,  we  at  present  see  the  florid  complexion,  the 
strong  limb,  and  the  hale  constitution,  are  to  be  found  chiefly 
among  the  meaner  sort  of  people,  or  in  the  wild  gentry  who 
have  been  educated  among  the  woods  or  mountains.  Whereas 
many  great  families  are  insensibly  fallen  off  from  the  athletic 
constitution  of  their  progenitors,  and  are  dwindled  away  into  a 
pale,  sickly,  spindle-legged  generation  of  valetudinarians. 

I  may  perhaps,  be  thought  extravagant  in  my  notion  ;  but 
I  must  confess,  I  am  apt  to  impute  the  dishonours  that  some- 
times happen  in  great  families,  to  the  inflaming  kind  of  diet 
which  is  so  much  in  fashion.  Many  dishes  can  excite  desire 
without  giving  strength,  and  heat  the  body  without  nourishing 
it  ;  as  physicians  observe,  that  the  poorest  and  most  dispirited 
blood  is  most  subject  to  fevers.  I  look  upon  a  French  ragout 
to  be  as  pernicious  to  the  stomach  as  a  glass  of  spirits  ;  and 
when  I  have  seen  a  young  lady  swallow  all  the  instigations  of 
high  soups,  seasoned  sauces,  and  forced  meats,  I  have  wondered 
at  the  despair  or  tedious  fighting  of  her  lovers. 

The  rules  among  these  false  Delicates  are,  to  be  as  contra- 
dictory as  they  can  be  to  nature. 


270  TnE    TATLER.  [No.  148. 

Without  exjDecting  the  return  of  hunger,  they  eat  for  an 
appetite,  and  prepare  dishes,  not  to  allay,  but  to  excite  it. 

They  admit  of  nothing  at  their  tables  in  its  natural  form,  or 
without  a  disguise. 

They  are  to  eat  of  everything  before  it  comes  in  season,  and 
to  leave  it  ofi"  as  soon  as  it  is  good  to  be  eaten. 

They  are  not  to  approve  anything  that  is  agreeable  to  ordi- 
nary palates  ;  and  nothing  is  to  gratify  their  senses,  but  what 
would  offend  those  of  their  inferiors. 

I  remember  I  was  last  summer  invited  to  a  friend's  house, 
who  is  a  great  admirer  of  the  French  cookery,  and,  as  the 
phrase  is,  '  eats  well.'  At  our  sitting  down,  I  found  the  table 
covered  with  a  great  variety  of  unknown  dishes.  I  was 
mightily  at  a  loss  to  learn  what  they  were,  and  therefore  did 
not  know  where  to  help  myself.  That  which  stood  before  me 
I  took  to  be  a  roasted  porcupine,  however  did  not  care  for 
asking  questions  ;  and  have  since  been  informed,  that  it  was 
only  a  larded  turkey.  I  afterwards  passed  my  eye  over  several 
hashes,  which  I  do  not  know  the  names  of  to  this  day ;  and, 
hearing  that  they  were  delicacies,  did  not  think  fit  to  meddle 
with  them. 

Among  other  dainties,  I  saw  something  like  a  pheasant,  and, 
therefore  desired  to  be  helped  to  a  wing  of  it ;  but,  to  my  great 
surprise,  my  friend  told  me  it  was  a  rabbit,  which  is  a  sort  of 
meat  I  never  cared  for.  At  last  I  discovered,  with  some  joy, 
a  pig  at  the  lower  end  of  the  table,  and  begged  a  gentleman 
that  was  near  it  to  cut  me  a  piece  of  it.  Upon  which  the 
gentleman  of  the  house  said,  with  great  civility,  *'  I  am  sure  you 
will  like  the  pig,  for  it  was  whipped  to  death."  I  must  confess, 
I  heard  him  with  horror,  and  could  not  eat  of  an  animal  that 
had  died  so  tragical  a  death.  I  was  now  in  great  hunger  and 
confusion,  when  methought  I  smelled  the  agreeable  savour  of 
roast  beef ;  but  could  not  tell  from  which  dish  it  arose,  though 
I  did  not  question  but  it  lay  disguised  in  one  of  them.  Upon 
turning  my  head,  I  saw  a  noble  surloin  on  the  side-table 
smoking  in  the  most  delicious  manner.  I  had  recourse  to  it 
more  than  once,  and  could  not  see  without  some  indignation 


No.  U9.]  PRIVATE    TYRANTS.  271 

that  substantial  English  dish  banished  in  so  ignominious  a 
manner,  to  make  Avay  for  French  kickshaws. 

The  desert  was  brought  up  at  last,  which  in  truth  was  as 
extraordinary  as  anything  that  had  come  before  it.  The  whole, 
when  ranged  in  its  proper  order,  looked  like  a  very  beautiful 
winter-piece.  There  were  several  pyramids  of  candied  sweet- 
meats, that  hung  like  icicles,  with  fruits  scattered  up  and  down, 
and  liid  in  an  artificial  kind  of  frost.  At  the  same  time  there 
were  great  quantities  of  cream  beaten  up  into  a  snow,  and  near 
them  little  plates  of  sugar-plums,  disposed  like  so  many  heaps 
of  hail-stones,  with  a  multitude  of  congelations  in  jellies  of 
various  colours.  I  was  indeed  so  pleased  with  the  several 
objects  which  lay  before  me,  that  I  did  not  care  for  displacing 
any  of  them  ;  and  was  half  angry  with  the  rest  of  the  company, 
that,  for  the  sake  of  a  piece  of  lemon-peel,  or  a  sugar-plum, 
would  spoil  so  pleasing  a  picture.  Indeed,  I  could  not  but 
smile  to  see  several  of  them  cooling  their  mouths  with  lumps 
of  ice  which  they  had  just  before  been  burning  with  salts  and 
peppers. 

As  soon  as  this  show  was  over,  I  took  my  leave,  that  I  might 
finish  my  dinner  at  my  own  house.  For  as  I  in  everything 
love  what  is  simple  and  natural,  so  particularly  in  my  food  ; 
two  plain  dishes,  with  two  or  three  good-natured,  cheerful,  in- 
genious friends,  would  make  me  more  pleased  and  vain,  than 
all  that  pomp  and  luxury  can  bestow.  For  it  is  my  maxim 
that  "  he  keeps  the  greatest  table  who  has  the  most  valuable 
company  at  it." 


I  PEIVATE  TYRANTS. 

Xo.  149.    THURSDAY,  March  23,  1709-10.     [Steele.] 

It  has  often  been  a  solid  grief  to  me,  when  I  have  reflected 
on  this  glorious  nation,  which  is  the  scene  of  public  happiness 
and  liberty,  that   there  are   still   crowds   of  private  tyrants, 


272  THE    TATLER.  [No.  149. 

against  whom  there  neither  is  any  law  now  in  being,  nor  can 
there  be  invented  any  by  the  wit  of  man.  These  crnel  men 
are  ill-natnred  husbands.  The  commerce  in  the  conjugal  state 
is  so  delicate,  that  it  is  impossible  to  prescribe  rules  for  the 
conduct  of  it,  so  as  to  fit  ten  thousand  nameless  pleasures  and 
disquietudes  which  arise  to  people  in  that  condition.  But  it 
is  in  this  as  in  some  other  nice  cases,  where  touching  upon  the 
malady  tenderly  is  half  way  to  the  cure  ;  and  there  are  some 
faults  which  need  only  to  be  observed,  to  be  amended.  I  am 
put  into  this  way  of  thinking  by  a  late  conversation,  which  I 
am  going  to  give  an  account  of. 

I  made  a  visit  the  other  day  to  a  family  for  w^hich  I  have  a 
great  honour,  and  found  the  father,  the  mother,  and  two  or 
three  of  the  younger  children  drop  off  designedly  to  leave  me 
alone  with  the  eldest  daughter ;  who  was  but  a  visitant  there 
as  well  as  myself,  and  is  the  wife  of  a  gentleman  of  a  very  fair 
character  in  the  world.  As  soon  as  we  were  alone,  I  saw  her 
eyes  full  of  tears,  and  methought  she  had  much  to  say  to  me, 
for  which  slie  wanted  encouragement.  "  Madam,"  said  I, 
"  you  know  I  wish  you  all  as  well  as  any  friend  you  have  : 
speak  freely  w^hat  I  see  you  are  oppressed  with  ;  and  you  may 
be  sure,  if  I  cannot  relieve  your  distress,  you  may  at  least  reap 
so  much  present  advantage,  as  safely  to  give  yourself  the  ease 
of  uttering  it."  She  immediately  assumed  the  most  becoming 
composure  of  countenance,  and  spoke  as  follows :  ''  It  is  an 
aggravation  of  affliction  in  a  married  life,  that  there  is  a  sort 
of  guilt  in  communicating  it  :  for  which  reason  it  is,  that  a 
lady  of  your  and  my  acquaintance,  instead  of  speaking  to  you 
herself,  desired  me,  the  next  time  I  saw  you,  as  you  are  a 
professed  friend  to  our  sex,  to  turn  your  thoughts  upon  the 
reciprocal  complaisance  which  is  the  duty  of  a  married  state. 

"My  friend  was  neither  in  birth,  fortune,  nor  education 
below  the  gentleman  whom  she  married.  Her  person,  her  age, 
and  her  character,  are  also  such  as  he  can  make  no  exception 
to.  But  so  it  is,  that  from  the  moment  the  marriage  ceremony 
was  over,  the  obsequiousness  of  a  lover  was  turned  into  the 
hauo-htiness  of  a  master.     All  the  kind  endeavours  which  she 


No.  149.]  PRIVATE    TYRANTS.  273 

uses  to  please  him,  are  at  best  but  so  many  instances  of  her 
duty.  This  insolence  takes  away  that  secret  satisfaction, 
which  does  not  only  excite  to  vh'tue,  but  also  rewards  it.  It 
abates  the  fire  of  a  free  and  generous  love,  and  imbi iters  all 
the  pleasures  of  a  social  life."  The  young  lady  spoke  all  this 
with  such  an  air  of  resentment,  as  discovered  how  nearly  she 
was  concerned  in  the  distress. 

When  I  observed  she  had  done  speaking,  "  Madam,"  said  I, 
"  the  affliction  you  mention  is  the  greatest  that  can  happen  in 
human  life  ;  and  I  know  but  one  consolation  in  it,  if  that  be  a 
consolation,  that  the  calamity  is  a  pretty  general  one.  There 
is  nothing  so  common  as  for  men  to  enter  into  marriage,  with- 
out so  much  as  expecting  to  be  happy  in  it.  They  seem  to 
propose  to  themselves  a  few  holidays  in  the  beginning  of  it  ; 
after  which  they  are  to  return  at  best  to  the  usual  course  of 
their  life  ;  and  for  aught  they  know,  to  constant  misery  and 
uneasiness.  From  this  false  sense  of  the  state  they  are  going 
into,  proceed  the  immediate  coldness  and  indifference,  or 
hatred  and  aversion,  which  attend  ordinary  marriages,  or 
rather  bar2:ains  to  cohabit."  Our  conversation  was  here  inter- 
rupted  by  company  which  came  in  upon  us. 

The  humour  of  affecting  a  superior  carriage,  generally  rises 
from  a  false  notion  of  the  weakness  of  a  female  understanding 
in  general,  or  an  over- weening  opinion  that  we  have  of  our 
own  ;  for  when  it  proceeds  from  a  natural  ruggedness  and 
brutality  of  temper,  it  is  altogether  incorrigible,  and  not  to  be 
amended  by  admonition.  Sir  Francis  Bacon,  as  I  remember, 
lays  it  down  as  a  maxim,  that  no  marriage  can  be  happy  in 
which  the  wife  has  no  opinion  of  her  husband's  wisdom  ;  but, 
without  offence  to  so  great  an  authority,  I  may  venture  to  say, 
that  a  _sullen_wjse  jQiai^  is__as  bad  as  a  good-natured  fool.  / 
Knowledge,  softened  with  colnplacency  "and 'good-breeding, 
will  make  a  man  equally  beloved  and  respected  ;  but  when 
joined  with  a  severe,  distant,  and  unsociable  temper,  it  creates 
rather  fear  than  love.  I,  who  am  a  bachelor,  have  no  other 
notions  of  conjugal  tenderness  but  what  I  learn  from  books  ; 
and  shall  therefore  produce  three  letters  of  Pliny,  who  was 


274  THE    TATLER.  [No.  149. 

not  only  one  of  the  g^reatest,  but  the  most  learned  man  in  the 
whole  Roman  empire.  At  the  same  time  I  am  very  much 
ashamed,  that  on  such  occasions  I  am  obliged  to  have  recourse 
to  heathen  authors  ;  and  shall  appeal  to  my  readers,  if  they 
would  not  think  it  a  mark  of  a  narrow  education  in  a  man  of 
quality,  to  write  such  passionate  letters  to  any  woman  but  a 
mistress.  They  were  all  three  written  at  a  time  when  she  was 
at  a  distance  from  liim.  The  first  of  them  puts  me  in  mind  of 
a  married  friend  of  mine,  who  said,  "  Sickness  itself  is  pleasant 
to  a  man  that  is  attended  in  it  by  one  whom  he  dearly  loves." 

''PLINY    TO    CALPHURNIA. 

"  I  never  was  so  much  offended  at  business,  as  when  it 
hindered  me  from  going  with  yon  into  the  country,  or  following 
you  thither  :  for  I  more  particularly  wish  to  be  with  you  at 
present,  that  I  might  be  sensible  of  the  progress  you  make  in 
the  recovery  of  your  strength  and  health  ;  as  also  of  the  enter- 
tainment and  diversions  you  can  meet  with  in  your  retirement. 
Believe  me,  it  is  an  anxious  state  of  mind  to  live  in  ignorance 
of  what  happens  to  those  whom  we  passionately  love.  I  am 
not  only  in  pain  for  your  absence,  but  also  for  your  indis- 
position. I  am  afraid  of  every  thing,  fancy  every  thing,  and, 
as  it  is  the  nature  of  man  in  fear,  I  fancy  those  things  most, 
which  I  am  most  afraid  of.  Let  me  therefore  earnestly  desire 
you  to  favour  me,  under  these  my  apprehensions,  with  one 
letter  every  day,  or,  if  possible,  with  two  ;  for  I  shall  be  a 
little  at  ease  wliile  I  am  reading  your  letters,  and  grow 
anxious  again  as  soon  as  I  have  read  them." 

SECOND    LETTEE. 

"  You  tell  me,  that  you  are  very  much  afflicted  at  my 
absence,  and  that  you  have  no  satisfaction  in  any  thing  but  my 
writings,  which  you  often  lay  by  yon  upon  my  pillow.  You 
oblige  me  very  much  in  wishing  to  see  me,  and  making  me 
your  comforter  in  my  absence.     In  return,   I  must  let  you 


No.  149.]  miVATE    TYRAXTS.  275 

know,  I  am  no  less  pleased  with  the  letters  which  you  ivrii  to 
me,  and  read  them  over  a  thousand  times  with  new  pleasure. 
If  your  letters  are  capable  of  giving  me  so  much  pleasure, 
what  would  your  conversation  do  ?  Let  me  beg  of  you  to 
write  to  me  often  ;  though  at  the  same  time  I  must  confess, 
your  letters  give  me  anguish  whilst  they  give  me  pleasure." 

THIRD    LETTER. 

"It  is  impossible  to  conceive  how  much  I  languish  for  you 
in  your  absence  ;  the  tender  love  I  bear  you  is  the  chief  cause 
of  this  my  uneasiness  ;  which  is  still  the  more  insupportable, 
because  absence  is  wholly  a  new  thing  to  us.  I  lie  awake  most 
part  of  the  night  in  thinking  of  you,  and  several  times  of  the 
day  go  as  naturally  to  your  apartment  as  if  you  were  there  to 
receive  me  ;  but  when  I  miss  you,  I  come  away  dejected,  out 
of  humour,  and  like  a  man  that  had  suffered  a  repulse.  There 
is  but  one  part  of  the  day  in  which  I  am  relieved  from  this 
anxiety,  and  that  is  when  I  am  engaged  in  public  affairs. 

''  You  may  guess  at  the  uneasy  condition  of  one  who  has  no 
rest  but  in  business,  no  consolation  but  in  trouble." 

I  shall  conclude  this  paper  with  a  beautiful  passage  out  of 
Milton,  and  leave  it  as  a  lecture  to  those  of  my  own  sex,  who 
have  a  mind  to  make  their  conversation  agreeable,  as  well  as 
instructive,  to  the  fair  partners  who  are  fallen  into  their  care. 
Eve  having  observed,  that  Adam  was  entering  into  some  deep 
disquisitions  with  the  Angel,  who  was  sent  to  visit  him,  is 
described  as  retiring  from  their  company,  with  a  design  of 
learning  what  should  pass  there  from  her  husband. 

"  So  spake  our  sire,  and  by  his  countenance  seem'd 
Entering  on  studious  thoughts  abstruse,  which  Eve 
Perceiving  where  she  sat  retir'd  in  sight, 
With  lowliness  majestic  from  her  seat 
Rose,  and  went  forth  among  her  fruits  and  flowers. 
Yet  went  she  not,  as  not  with  such  discourse 
Delighted,  or  not  capable  her  ear 
Of  what  was  high.     Such  pleasures  she  reserv'd, 
Adam  relating,  she  sole  auditress  ; 
Her  husband  the  rclater  she  preferr"d 


276  THE    TATLER.  [No.  151. 

Before  the  angel,  and  of  him  to  ask 

Chose  rather.     He,  she  kncAv,  Avould  intermix 

Grateful  digressions,  and  solve  high  dispute 

With  conjugal  caresses  ;  from  his  lip 

Not  words  alone  i)lcas'd  her.     0  I  when  meet  now 

Such  pairS;  in  love  and  mutual  honour  join'd  I  "  * 


BEAUTY  UNADORNED. 

No.  151.    TUESDAY,  March  28,  1710.     [Steele.1 


Ni  vis  boni 


In  ipsa  inesset  forma,  liiBC  formam  extinguerent.  Tkr. 

These  things  Avould  extinguish  beauty,  if  there  were  not  an  innate  pleasure- 
giving  energy  in  beauty  itself. 

"When  artists  would  expose  their  diamonds  to  an  advantage, 
they  usually  set  them  to  show  in  little  cases  of  black  yelvct. 
By  this  means  the  jewels  appear  in  their  true  and  genuine 
lustre,  while  there  is  no  colour  that  can  infect  their  brightness, 
or  give  a  false  cast  to  the  water.  When  I  was  at  the  opera 
the  other  night,  the  assembly  of  ladies  in  mourning  f  made  me 
consider  them  in  the  same  kind  of  view.  A  dress  wherein 
there  is  so  little  variety  shews  the  face  in  all  its  natural  charms, 
and  makes  one  differ  from  another  only  as  it  is  more  or  less 
beautiful.  Painters  are  ever  careful  of  offending  against  a  rule 
which  is  so  essential  in  all  just  representations.  The  chief 
figure  must  have  the  strongest  point  of  light,  and  not  be 
injiu'ed  by  any  gay  colomings,  that  may  draw  away  the  atten- 
tion to  any  less  considerable  part  of  the  picture.  The  present 
fashion  obliges  every  body  to  be  dressed  with  propriety,  and 

*  Milton's  "  Paradise  Lost,"  Book  viii.  1.  39. 

+  In  allusion  to  the  long-continued  mourning  on  the  decease  of  the  Queen's 
husband,  George,  Prince  of  Denmark,  who  died  October  21,  1708.  Lewis, 
Duke  of  Bourbon,  eldest  son  to  the  Dani)hin  of  France,  died  on  the  3rd  of 
March,  about  three  weeks  before  the  date  of  this  Paper.  A  month  before,  in 
consequence  of  a  petition  jireseuted  by  the  Mercers,  &c. ,  complaining  of  their 
sufferings  from  the  length  and  frequency  of  public  mournings,  leave  was  given 
to  bring  in  a  bill  for  ascertaining  and  limiting  the  time  of  them. 


No.  151.]  BEAUTY    UXADORXED.  277 

makes  the  ladies'  faces  the  principal  objects  of  sight.  Every 
beautiful  person  shines  out  in  all  the  excellence  with  ^Yhicll 
nature  has  adorned  her  ;  gaudy  ribbands  and  glaring  colours 
being  now  out  of  use,  the  sex  has  no  opportunity  given  them 
to  disfigure  themselves,  which  they  seldom  fail  to  do  when- 
ever it  lies  in  their  power.  When  a  w"oman  comes  to  her 
glass,  she  does  not  employ  her  time  in  making  herself  look 
more  advantageously  what  she  really  is  ;  but  endeavours  to  be 
as  much  another  creature  as  she  possibly  can.  Whether  this 
happens  because  they  stay  so  long,  and  attend  their  work  so 
diligently,  that  they  forget  the  faces  and  persons  w^hich  they 
first  sat  down  with,  or  whatever  it  is,  they  seldom  rise  from 
the  toilet  the  same  women  they  appeared  when  they  began  to 
dress.  What  jewel  can  the  charming  Cleora  place  in  her  ears, 
that  can  please  her  beholders  so  much  as  her  eyes  ?  The 
cluster  of  diamonds  upon  the  breast  can  add  no  beauty  to  the 
fair  chest  of  ivory  which  supports  it.  It  may  indeed  tempt  a 
man  to  steal  a  woman,  but  never  to  love  her.  Let  Thalestris 
change  herself  into  a  motley,  party-coloured  animal  :  the  pearl 
necklace,  the  flowered  stomacher,  the  artificial  nosegay,  and 
slmded  furlchw,  may  be  of  use  to  attract  the  eye  of  her 
beholder,  and  turn  it  from  the  imperfections  of  her  features 
and  shape.  But  if  ladies  will  take  my  word  for  it  (and  as 
they  dress  to  please  men,  they  ought  to  consult  our  fancy 
rather  than  their  own  in  this  particular),  I  can  assure  them, 
there  is  nothing  touches  our  imagination  so  much  as  a 
beautiful  woman  in  a  plain  dress.  There  might  be  more 
agreeable  ornaments  found  in  our  own  manufacture,  than  any 
that  rise  out  of  the  looms  of  Persia. 

This,  I  know,  is  a  very  harsh  doctrine  to  woman-kind,  who 
are  carried  away  with  every  thing  that  is  showy,  and  with 
what  delights  the  eye,  more  than  any  other  species  of  living 
creatures  whatsoever.  Were  the  minds  of  the  sex  laid  open, 
we  should  find  the  chief  idea  in  one  to  be  a  tippet,  in  another  a 
mufF,  in  a  third  a  fan,  and  in  a  fourth  a  fardingal.  The 
memory  of  an  old  visiting  lady  is  so  filled  with  gloves,  silks, 
and  ribbands,  that  I  can  look  upon  it  as  nothing  else  but  a 


278  THE    TATLER.  t^o.  151. 

toy-shop.  A  matron  of  my  acquaintance,  complaining  of  her 
daughter's  vanity,  was  observing,  that  she  had  all  of  a  sudden 
held  up  her  head  higher  than  ordinary,  and  falicn  an  air  that 
shewed  a  secret  satisfaction  in  herself,  mixed  with  a  scorn  of 
others.  ''  I  did  not  know,"  says  my  friend,  "■  what  to  make  of 
the  carriage  of  this  fantastical  girl,  until  I  was  informed  by 
her  eldest  sister,  that  she  had  a  pair  of  striped  garters  on." 
This  odd  turn  of  mind  makes  the  sex  unhappy,  and  disposes 
them  to  be  struck  with  every  thing  that  makes  a  show,  how- 
ever trifling  and  superficial. 

Many  a  lady  has  fetched  a  sigh  at  the  ioss  of  a  wig,  and 
been  ruined  by  the  tapping  of  a  snuflF-box.  It  is  impossible  to 
describe  all  the  execution  that  was  done  by  the  shoulchr-lcnot, 
while  that  fashion  prevailed,  or  to  reckon  up  all  the  virgins 
that  have  fallen  a  sacrifice  to  a  pair  of  fringed  gloves.  A 
sincere  heart  has  not  made  half  so  many  conquests  as  an  open 
icaisfcoaf  *  ;  and  I  should  be  glad  to  see  an  able  head  make  so 
good  a  figure  in  a  woman's  company  as  a  pair  of  red  heels.  A 
Grecian  hero,  when  he  was  asked  whether  he  could  play  upon 
the  lute,  thought  he  had  made  a  very  good  reply,  when  he 
answered,  ''No  ;  but  I  can  make  a  great  city  of  a  little  one." 
Notwithstanding  his  boasted  wisdom,  I  appeal  to  the  heart  of 
any  Toast  in  town,  whether  she  would  not  think  the  Intenist 
preferable  to  the  statesman  ?  I  do  not  speak  this  out  of  any 
aversion  that  I  have  to  the  sex  :  on  the  contrary,  I  have 
always  had  a  tenderness  for  them  ;  but,  I  must  confess,  it 
troubles  me  very  much,  to  see  the  generality  of  them  place 
their  affections  on  improper  objects,  and  give  up  all  the 
pleasures  of  life  for  gewgaws  and  trifles. 

Mrs.  Margery  Bickerstaff,  my  great  aunt,  had  a  thousand 
pounds  to  her  portion,  which  our  family  was  desirous  of  keep- 
ing among  themselves,  and  therefore  used  all  possible  means  to 

*  One  of  the  Princes  of  Orange,  wto  had  many  Frencli  refugees  among  Lis 
officers,  observed  to  them  that  they  ought  to  consider  they  were  in  a  colder 
country,  and  dress  accordingly.  Says  one  of  them,  "We  have  a  remedy 
against  cold  ;  does  your  Highness  know  anything  so  warm  as  two  shirts  ? " 
•'  Yes,"  replied  the  Prince,  "  three." 


No.  151.]  BEAUTY    UXADORXED.  279 

turn  off  her  Miouo-bts  fi-oiu  marriasre.  The  method  thev  took 
was,  in  any  time  of  danger,  to  throw  a  new  gown  oi-  petticoat 
in  her  way.  When  she  was  about  twenty-five  years  of  age, 
she  fell  in  love  with  a  man  of  an  agreeable  temper  and  equal 
fortune,  and  would  certainly  haye  married  him,  had  not  my 
grandfather,  Sir  Jacob,  dressed  her  np  in  a  suit  of  flowered 
satin  ;  upon  which  she  set  so  immoderate  a  value  upon  her- 
self, that  the  lover  was  contemned  and  discarded.  In  the 
fortieth  year  of  her  age,  she  was  again  smitten  ;  but  very 
luckily  transferred  her  passion  to  a  iijipet,  which  was  presented 
to  her  by  another  relation  who  was  in  the  plot.  This,  with  a 
tuhite  sarsenet  hood,  kept  her  safe  in  the  family  until  fifty. 
About  sixty,  which  generally  produces  a  kind  of  latter  spring 
in  amorous  constitutions,  my  aunt  jMargery  had  again  a  colt's 
tooth  in  her  head  ;  and  would  certainly  have  eloped  from  the 
mansion-house,  had  not  her  brother  Simon,  who  was  a  wise 
man  and  a  scholar,  advised  to  dress  her  in  cherry -coloured 
7ibhctnds,  which  was  the  only  expedient  that  could  have  been 
found  out  by  the  wit  of  man  to  preserve  the  thousand  pounds 
in  our  family,  part  of  which  I  enjoy  at  this  time. 

This  discourse  puts  me  in  mind  of  an  humourist  mentioned 
by  Horace,  called  Eutrapelus,  who,  when  he  designed  to  do  a 
man  a  mischief,  made  him  a  present  of  a  gay  suit  ;  and  brings 
to  my  memory  another  passage  of  the  same  author,  when  he 
describes  the  most  ornamental  dress  that  a  woman  can  appear 
in  with  two  words,  Simplex  Mimdltiis,  which  I  have  quoted  for 
the  benefit  of  my  female  readers. 


280  THE    TATLER.  [No.  152. 

IMMORTALITY  OF  THE   SOUL. 

No.  152.     THURSDAY,  March  80,  1710.     [Addison.] 

Dii,  quibiis  imperium  est  auiiuaruin,  uinbrseque  silentes, 
Et  Chaos,  et  Plilegethon,  loca  nocte  silentia  late, 
Sit  mihi  fas  audita  loqui ;  sit  numiuo  vestro 
Pandere  res  alta  terra  et  caligine  raersas. 

ViRG.  Mn.  vi.  26 i. 

Infernal  gods,  who  rule  the  shades  below, 
Chaos  and  Phlegethon,  the  realms  of  woe  ; 
Grant  what  I've  heard  I  may  to  light  expose, 
Secrets  which  earth,  and  night,  and  hell  inclose  I 

A  MAN  \Yho  confines  his  speculations  to  the  time  present, 
has  but  a  very  narrow  province  to  employ  his  thoughts  in. 
For  this  reason,  persons  of  studious  and  contemplative  natures 
often  entertain  themselves  with  the  history  of  past  ages,  or 
raise  schemes  and  conjectures  upon  futurity.  For  my  own 
part,  I  love  to  range  through  that  half  of  eternity  which  is  still 
to  come,  rather  than  look  on  that  which  is  already  run  out  ; 
because  I  know  I  have  a  real  share  and  interest  in  the  one, 
whereas  all  that  was  transacted  in  the  other  can  be  only  matter 
of  curiosity  to  me. 

Upon  this  account,  I  have  been  always  very  much  delighted 
with  meditating  on  the  soul's  immortality,  and  in  reading  the 
several  notions  which  the  wisest  of  men,  both  antient  and 
modern,  have  entertained  on  that  subject.  What  the  opinions 
of  the  greatest  philosophers  have  been,  I  have  several  times 
hinted  at,  and  shall  give  an  account  of  them  from  time  to  time 
as  occasion  requires.  It  may  likewise  be  worth  while  to  con- 
sider, what  men  of  the  most  exalted  genius  and  elevated 
imagination  have  thought  of  this  matter.  Among  these, 
Homer  stands  up  as  a  prodigy  of  mankind,  that  looks  down 
upon  the  rest  of  human  creatures  as  a  species  beneath  him. 
Since  he  is  the  most  antient  heathen  author,  we  may  guess 
from  his  relation,  what  were  the  common  opinions  in  his  time 
c  )ncerning  the  state  of  the  soul  after  death. 

Ulysses,  he  tells  us,  made  a  voyage  to  the  regions  of  the 


No.  152.]  IMMORTALITY    OF    THE    SOFL.  281 

dead,  in  order  to  consult  Tiresias  how  he  should  return  to  his 
own  country,  and  recommend  himself  to  the  favour  of  the 
gods.  The  poet  scarce  introduces  a  single  person  who  doth 
not  suggest  some  useful  precept  to  his  reader,  and  designs  his 
description  of  the  dead  for  the  amendment  of  the  living. 

Ulysses,  after  having  made  a  very  plenteous  sacrifice,  sat 
him  doicn  by  the  pool  of  holy  blood,  which  attracted  a  pro- 
digious assembly  of  ghosts  of  all  ages  and  conditions,  that 
hovered  about  the  hero,  and  feasted  upon  the  steams  of  his 
oblation.  The  first  he  knew  was  the  shade  of  Elpenor,  who,  to 
shew  the  activity  of  a  spirit  above  that  of  body,  is  represented 
as  an-ived  there  long  before  Ulysses,  notwithstanding  the 
winds  and  seas  had  contributed  all  their  force  to  hasten  his 
voyage  thither.  This  Elpenor,  to  inspire  the  reader  with  a  de- 
testation of  drunkenness,  and  at  the  same  time  with  a  religious 
care  of  doing  proper  honours  to  the  dead,  describes  himself  as 
having  broken  his  neck  in  a  debauch  of  wine  ;  and  beo-s 
Ulysses,  that  for  the  repose  of  his  soul,  he  would  build  a 
monument  over  him,  and  perform  funereal  rites  to  his  memory. 
Ulysses,  with  great  sorrow  of  heart,  promises  to  fulfil  his 
request,  and  is  immediately  diverted  to  an  object  much  more 
moving  than  the  former.  The  ghost  of  his  own  mother 
Anticlea,  whom  he  still  thought  living,  appears  to  him  among 
the  multitudes  of  shades  that  surrounded  him  ;  and  sits  down 
at  a  small  distance  from  him  by  the  lake  of  blood,  without 
speaking  to  him,  or  knowing  who  he  was.  Ulysses  was 
exceedingly  troubled  at  the  sight,  and  could  not  forbear  weep- 
ing as  he  looked  upon  her  :  but  being  all  along  set  forth  as  a 
pattern  of  consummate  wisdom,  he  makes  his  affection  give  way 
to  prudence ;  and  therefore,  upon  his  seeing  Tiresias,  does  not 
reveal  himself  to  his  mother,  until  he  had  consulted  that  great 
prophet,  who  was  the  occasion  of  this  his  descent  into  the 
empire  of  the  dead.  Tiresias  having  cautioned  him  to  keep 
himself  and  his  companions  free  fi-om  the  guilt  of  sacrilege, 
and  to  pay  his  devotions  to  all  the  gods,  promises  him  a  safe 
return  to  his  kingdom  and  family,  and  a  happy  old  age  in  the 
enjoyment  of  them. 

U  2 


282  THE    TATLER.  [No.  152. 

The  poet,  having  thus  with  great  art  kept  the  curiosity  of 
his  reader  in  suspense,  represents  his  wise  man,  after  the  dis- 
patch of  his  business  with  Tiresias,  as  yielding  himself  up  to 
the  calls  of  natural  affection,  and  making  himself  known  to  his 
mother.  Her  eyes  are  no  sooner  opened,  but  she  cries  out  in 
tears,  "  Oh  my  son  !  "  and  inquires  into  the  occasions  that 
brought  him  thither,  and  the  fortune  that  attended  him. 

Ulysses,  on  the  other  hand,  desires  to  know  what  the 
sickness  was  that  had  sent  her  into  those  regions,  and  the  con- 
dition in  which  she  had  left  his  father,  his  son,  and  more 
particularly  his  wife.  She  tells  him,  ''  they  were  all  three 
inconsolable  for  his  absence.  As  for  myself,"  says  she,  "  that 
was  the  sickness  of  which  I  died.  My  impatience  for  your 
return,  my  anxiety  for  your  welfare,  and  my  fondness  for  my 
dear  Ulysses,  were  the  only  distempers  that  preyed  upon  my 
life,  and  separated  my  soul  fi'om  my  body."  Ulysses  was 
melted  with  these  expressions  of  tenderness,  and  thrice  en- 
deavoured to  catch  the  apparition  in  his  arms,  that  he  might 
hold  his  mother  to  his  bosom,  and  weep  over  her. 

This  gives  the  poet  occasion  to  describe  the  notion  the 
heathens  at  that  time  had  of  an  unbodied  soul,  in  the  excuse 
which  the  mother  makes  for  seeming  to  withdraw  herself  from 
her  son's  embraces.  "  The  soul,"  says  she,  ''  is  composed 
neither  of  bones,  flesh,  nor  sinews  ;  but  leaves  behind  her  all 
those  incumbrances  of  mortality  to  be  consumed  on  the 
funeral  pile.  As  soon  as  she  has  thus  cast  her  burden,  she 
makes  her  escape,  and  flies  away  from  it  like  a  dream." 

When  this  melancholy  conversation  is  at  an  end,  the  poet 
draws  up  to  view  as  charming  a  vision  as  could  enter  into 
man's  imagination.  He  describes  the  next  who  appeared  to 
Ulysses,  to  have  been  the  shades  of  the  finest  women  that  had 
ever  lived  upon  the  earth,  and  who  had  either  been  the 
daughters  of  kings,  the  mistresses  of  gods,  or  mothers  of 
heroes  ;  such  as  Antiope,  Alcmena,  Leda,  Ariadne,  Iphimedia, 
Eriphyle,  and  several  others,  of  whom  he  gives  a  catalogue, 
with  a  short  history  of  their  adventures.  The  beautiful  as- 
sembly of  apparitions  were  all  gathered  together  about  the  blood. 


Xo.  1.32.]  IMMORTALITY    OF    THE    SOUL.  z83 

"Each  of  them,"  says  Ulysses,  as  a  gentle  satire  upon  female 
vanity,  "  giving  me  an  account  of  her  birth  and  family." 
This  scene  of  extraordinary  women,  seems  to  have  been 
designed  by  the  poet  as  a  lecture  of  mortality  to  the  whole 
sex,  and  to  put  them  in  mind  of  what  they  must  expect, 
notwithstanding  the  greatest  perfections,  and  highest  honours, 
they  can  arrive  at. 

The  cii'cle  of  beauties  at  length  disappeared,  and  was  suc- 
ceeded by  the  shades  of  several  Grecian  heroes,  who  had  been 
engaged  with  Ulysses  in  the  siege  of  Troy.  The  first  that 
approached  was  Agamemnon,  the  generalissimo  of  that  great 
expedition,  who,  at  the  appearance  of  his  old  friend,  wept  very 
bitterly,  and,  without  saying  anything  to  him,  endeavoured  to 
grasp  him  by  the  hand.  Ulysses,  who  was  much  moved  at  the 
sight,  poured  out  a  flood  of  tears,  and  asked  him  the  occasion 
of  his  death,  which  Agamemnon  related  to  him  in  all  its 
tragical  circumstances  ;  how  he  was  murdered  at  a  banquet  by 
the  contrivance  of  his  own  wife,  in  confederacy  with  her 
adulterer  :  from  whence  he  takes  occasion  to  reproach  the 
whole  sex,  after  a  manner  which  would  be  inexcusable  in  a 
man  who  had  not  been  so  great  a  suft'erer  by  them.  "  My 
wife,"  says  he,  "  has  disgraced  all  the  women  that  shall  ever  be 
born  into  the  world,  even  those  who  hereafter  shall  be  innocent. 
Take  care  how  you  grow  too  fond  of  your  wife.  Xever  tell  her 
all  you  know.  If  you  reveal  some  things  to  her,  be  sure  you  keep 
others  concealed  from  her.  You,  indeed,  have  nothing  to  fear 
from  your  Penelope,  she  will  not  use  you  as  my  wife  has  treated 
me  ;  however,  take  care  how  you  trust  a  woman."  The  poet,  in 
this  and  other  instances,  according  to  the  system  of  many 
heathen  as  well  as  Christian  philosophers,  shews,  how  anger, 
revenge,  and  other  habits  which  the  soul  had  contracted  in  the 
body,  subsist,  and  grow  in  it  under  its  state  of  separation. 

I  am  extremely  pleased  with  the  companions  which  the  poet 
in  the  next  description  assigns  to  Achilles.  "Achilles,"  says 
the  hero,  ^'  came  up  to  me  with  Patroclus  and  Antilochus." 
By  which  we  may  see  that  it  was  Homer's  opinion,  and 
probably  that  of  the  age  he  lived  in,  that  the  friendships  which 


284  THE    TATLER.  [No.  152. 

are  made  among  the  living,  will  likewise  continue  among  the  dead. 
Achilles  enquires  after  the  welfare  of  his  son,  and  of  his  father, 
with  a  fierceness  of  the  same  character  that  Homer  has  every- 
where expressed  in  the  actions  of  his  life.  The  passage  relating 
to  his  son  is  so  extremely  beautiful,  that  I  must  not  omit  it. 
Ulysses,  after  having  described  him  as  wise  in  council,  and  active 
in  war,  and  mentioned  the  foes  whom  he  had  slain  in  battle, 
adds  an  observation  that  he  himself  had  made  of  his  behaviour, 
whilst  he  lay  in  the  wooden  horse.  "Most  of  the  generals,"  says 
he,  "  that  were  with  us,  either  wept  or  trembled  :  as  for  your 
son,  I  never  saw  him  wipe  a  tear  from  his  cheeks,  or  change 
his  countenance.  On  the  contrary,  he  would  often  lay  his  hand 
upon  his  sword,  or  grasp  his  spear,  as  impatient  to  employ 
them  against  the  Trojans."  He  then  informs  his  father  of  the 
great  honour  and  rewards  which  he  had  purchased  before  Troy, 
and  of  his  return  from  it  without  a  wound.  "  The  shade  of 
Achilles,"  says  the  poet,  '^  was  so  pleased  with  the  account  he 
received  of  his  son,  that  he  enquired  no  farther,  but  stalked 
away  with  more  than  ordinary  majesty  over  the  green  meadow 
that  lay  before  them." 

This  last  circumstance,  of  a  deceased  father's  rejoicing  in 
the  behaviour  of  his  son,  is  very  finely  contrived  by  Homer,  as 
an  incentive  to  virtue,  and  made  use  of  by  none  that  I  know 
besides  himself. 

The  description  of  Ajax,  which  follows,  and  his  refusing  to 
speak  to  Ulysses,  who  had  won  the  armour  of  Achilles  from 
him,  and  by  that  means  occasioned  his  death,  is  admired  by 
every  one  that  reads  it.  When  Ulysses  relates  the  sullenness  of 
his  deportment,  and  considers  the  greatness  of  the  hero,  he 
expresses  himself  with  generous  and  noble  sentiments.  "  Oh  ! 
that  I  had  never  gained  a  prize  which  cost  the  life  of  so  brave 
a  man  as  Ajax  !  who,  for  the  beauty  of  his  person,  and  great- 
ness of  his  actions,  was  inferior  to  none  but  the  divine  Achilles." 
The  same  noble  condescension,  which  never  dwells  but  in  truly 
great  minds,  and  such  as  Homer  would  represent  that  of 
Ulysses  to  have  been,  discovers  itself  likewise  in  the  speech 
which  he  made  to  the  ghost  of  Ajax  on  that  occasion.     "  Oh, 


Xo.  lo2.J  IMMORTALITY    OF    THE    SOUL.  '285 

Ajax  !  "  says  he,  "  will  you  keep  your  resentments  even  after 
death  ?  What  destructions  hath  this  fatal  armour  brought 
upon  the  G-rceks,  by  robbing  them  of  you,  who  were  their 
bulwark  and  defence  ?  Achilles  is  n«»t  more  bitterly  lamented 
among  us  than  you.  Impute  not  then  your  death  to  any  one 
but  Jupiter,  who,  out  of  his  anger  to  the  Greeks,  took  you 
away  fi-om  among  them  :  let  me  entreat  you  to  approach  me  ; 
restrain  the  fierceness  of  your  wrath,  and  the  greatness  of  your 
soul,  and  hear  what  I  have  to  say  to  you."  Ajax,  without 
making  a  reply,  turned  his  back  upon  him,  and  retired  into  a 
crowd  of  ghosts. 

Ulysses,  after  all  these  visions,  took  a  view  of  those  impious 
wretches  who  lay  in  tortures  for  the  crimes  they  had  committed 
upon  the  earth,  whom  he  describes  under  all  the  varieties  of 
pain,  as  so  many  marks  of  divine  vengeance,  to  deter  others 
from  following  their  example.  He  then  tells  us,  that  notwith- 
standing he  had  a  great  curiosity  to  see  the  heroes  that  lived 
in  the  ages  before  him,  the  ghosts  began  to  gather  about  him 
in  such  prodigious  multitudes,  and  with  such  a  confusion  of 
voices,  that  his  heart  trembled  as  he  saw  himself  amidst  so 
great  a  scene  of  horrors.  He  adds,  that  he  was  afraid  lest 
some  hideous  spectre  should  appear  to  him,  that  might  terrify 
him  to  distraction  ;  and  therefore  withdrew  in  time. 

I  question  not  but  my  reader  will  be  pleased  with  this 
description  of  a  future  state,  represented  by  such  a  noble  and 
fruitful  imagination,  that  had  nothing  to  direct  it  besides  the 
light  of  nature,  and  the  opinions  of  a  dark  and  ignorant  age. 


286  THE    TATLER.  [No.  153. 

A  MUSICAL  INTERPRETATION  OF  TALK. 

No.  153.    SATURDAY,  April  1,  1710.     [Addison.] 

Bombalio,  clangor,  stridor,  tavatantara,  murmur. 

Farn.  Rhet. 

Rend  with  tremendous  sounds  your  ears  asunder, 
With  gun,  drum,  trumpet,  blunderbuss,  and  thunder. 

I  HAVE  heard  of  a  very  valuable  picture,  wherein  all  the 
painters  of  the  age  in  which  it  was  drawn,  are  represented 
sitting  together  in  a  circle,  and  joining  in  a  consort  of  music. 
Each  of  them  plays  upon  such  a  particular  instrument  as  is  the 
most  suitable  to  his  character,  and  expresses  that  style  and 
manner  of  painting  which  is  peculiar  to  him.  The  famous 
cupola-painter  of  those  times,  to  shew  the  grandeur  and  bold- 
ness of  his  figures,  hath  a  horn  in  his  mouth,  which  he  seems 
to  wind  with  great  strength  and  force.  On  the  contrary,  an 
eminent  artist,  who  wrought  up  his  pictures  with  the  greatest 
accuracy,  and  gave  them  all  those  delicate  touches  which  are 
apt  to  please  the  nicest  eye,  is  represented  as  tuning  a  Theorbo. 
The  same  kind  of  humour  runs  through  the  whole  piece. 

1  have  often,  from  this  hint,  imagined  to  myself,  that 
different  talents  in  discourse  might  be  shadowed  out  after  the 
same  manner  by  different  kinds  of  music  ;  and  that  the  several 
conversable  parts  of  mankind  in  this  great  city,  might  be  cast 
into  proper  characters  and  divisions,  as  they  resemble  several 
instruments  that  are  in  use  among  the  masters  of  harmony. 
Of  these  therefore  in  their  order  ;  and  first  of  the  Drum. 

Your  Drums  are  the  blusterers  in  conversation,  that,  with  a 
loud  laugh,  unnatural  mirth,  and  a  torrent  of  noise,  domineer 
in  public  assemblies  ;  over-bear  men  of  sense  ;  stun  their  com- 
panions ;  and  fill  the  place  they  are  in  with  a  rattling  sound, 
that  hath  seldom  any  wit,  humour,  or  good  breeding  in  it. 
The  Drum  notwithstanding,  by  this  boisterous  vivacity,  is  very 
proper  to  impose  upon  the  ignorant  ;  and  in  conversation  with 
ladies  who  are  not  of  the  finest  taste,  often  passes  for  a  man  of 


Xo.  lo3.]     A    MUSICAL    INTERPRETATION    OF    TALK.  287 

mirth  and  wit,  and  for  wonderful  pleasant  company.  I  need 
not  observe,  that  the  emptiness  of  the  Drum  very  much  con- 
tributes to  its  noise. 

The  Lute  is  a  character  directly  opposite  to  the  Drum,  that 
sounds  very  finely  by  itself,  or  in  a  very  small  consort.  Its 
notes  are  exquisitely  sweet,  and  very  low,  easily  drowned  in  a 
multitude  of  instruments,  and  even  lost  among  a  few,  unless 
you  give  a  particular  attention  to  it.  A  Lute  is  seldom  heard 
in  a  company  of  more  than  five,  whereas  a  Drum  will  shew 
itself  to  advantage  in  an  assembly  of  five  hundred.  The 
Lutenists  therefore  are  men  of  a  fine  genius,  uncommon  reflec- 
tion, great  affability,  and  esteemed  chiefly  by  persons  of  a 
good  taste,  who  are  the  only  proper  judges  of  so  delightful  and 
soft  a  melody. 

The  Trumpet  is  an  instrument  that  has  in  it  no  compass  of 
music,  or  variety  of  sound,  but  is  notwithstanding  very 
agreeable,  so  long  as  it  keeps  within  its  pitch.  It  has  not 
above  four  or  five  notes,  which  are  however  very  pleasing,  and 
capable  of  exquisite  turns  and  modulations.  The  gentlemen 
who  fall  under  this  denomination,  are  your  men  of  the  most 
fashionable  education,  and  refined  breeding,  who  have  learned 
a  certain  smoothness  of  discourse,  and  sprightliness  of  air,  from 
the  polite  company  they  have  kept ;  but  at  the  same  time  have 
shallow  parts,  weak  judgments,  and  a  short  reach  of  under- 
standing. A  play-house,  a  drawing-room,  a  ball,  a  visiting- 
day,  or  a  Eing  at  Hyde-park,  are  the  few  notes  they  are 
masters  of,  which  they  touch  upon  in  all  conversations.  The 
Trumpet,  however,  is  a  necessary  instrument  about  a  court, 
and  a  proper  enlivener  of  a  consort,  though  of  no  great  harmony 
by  itself. 

Violins  are  the  lively,  forward,  importunate  wits,  that  dis- 
tinguish themselves  by  the  flourishes  of  imagination,  sharpness 
of  repartee,  glances  of  satire,  and  bear  away  the  upper  part  in 
every  consort.  I  cannot  however  but  observe,  that  when  a 
man  is  not  disposed  to  hear  music,  there  is  not  a  more 
disagreeable  sound  in  harmony  than  that  of  a  violin. 

There  is  another  musical  instrument  which  is  more  frequent 


288  THE    TATLER.  [Xo.  1-53. 

in  this  nation  than  any  other  ;  I  mean  your  Baas- viol,  which 
grumbles  in  the  bottom  of  the  consort,  and  with  a  surly  mascu- 
line sound  strengthens  the  harmony,  and  tempers  the  sweetness 
of  the  several  instruments  that  play  along  with  it.  The  Bass- 
viol  is  an  instrument  of  a  quite  different  nature  to  the  Trumpet, 
and  may  signify  men  of  rough  sense  and  unpolished  parts  ; 
who  do  not  love  to  hear  themselves  talk,  but  sometimes  break 
out  with  an  agreeable  bluntness,  unexpected  wit,  and  surly 
pleasantries,  to  the  no  small  diversion  of  their  friends  and 
companions.  In  short,  I  look  upon  every  sensible  true-born 
Briton  to  be  naturally  a  Bass-viol. 

As  for  your  rural  wits,  who  talk  with  great  eloquence  and 
alacrity  of  foxes,  hounds,  horses,  quickset  hedges,  and  six-bar 
gates,  double  ditches,  and  broken  necks,  I  am  in  doubt, 
whether  I  should  give  them  a  place  in  the  conversable  w"orld. 
However,  if  they  will  content  themselves  with  being  raised  to 
the  dignity  of  Hunting-horns,  I  shall  desire  for  the  future, 
that  they  may  be  known  by  that  name. 

I  must  not  here  omit  the  Bag-pipe  species,  that  will  entertain 
you  fi'om  morning  to  night  with  the  repetition  of  a  few  notes, 
which  are  played  over  and  over,  with  the  perpetual  humming 
of  a  drone  running  underneath  them.  These  are  your  dull, 
heavy,  tedious  story-tellers,  the  load  and  burden  of  conversa- 
tions, that  set  up  for  men  of  importance,  by  knowing  secret 
history,  and  giving  an  account  of  transactions,  that  whether 
they  ever  passed  in  the  world  or  not,  doth  not  signify  an  half- 
penny to  its  instruction,  or  its  welfare.  Some  have  observed, 
that  the  Northern  parts  of  this  island  are  more  particularly 
fruitful  in  Bag-pipes. 

There  are  so  very  few  persons  who  are  masters  in  every  kind 
of  conversation,  and  can  talk  on  all  subjects,  that  I  do  not 
know  whether  we  should  make  a  distinct  species  of  them. 
Nevertheless,  that  my  scheme  may  not  be  defective,  for  the  sake 
of  those  few  who  are  endowed  with  such  extraordinary  talents, 
I  shall  allow  them  to  be  Harpsichords,  a  kind  of  music  which 
every  one  knows  is  a  consort  by  itself. 

As  for  your  Passing-bells,  who  look  upon  mirth  as  criminal, 


No.  l.-)3.]     A    MUSICAL    IXTERPUETATlOX    OF    TAI.K.  -iS!) 

and  talk  of  nothing  but  what  is  melancholy  in  itself,  and 
mortifying  to  human  nature,  I  shall  not  mention  them. 

I  shall  likewise  pass  over  in  silence  all  the  rabble  of  man- 
kind, that  crowd  our  streets,  coffee-houses,  feasts,  and  public 
tables.  I  cannot  call  their  discourse  conversation,  but  rather 
something  that  is  practised  in  imitation  of  it.  For  which 
reason,  if  I  would  describe  them  by  any  musical  instrument,  it 
should  be  by  those  modern  inventions  of  the  bladder  and 
string,  tongs  and  key,  marrow-bone  and  cleaver. 

My  reader  will  doubtless  observe,  that  I  have  only  touched 
here  upon  male  instruments,  having  reserved  my  female 
cojisort  to  another  occasion.  If  he  has  a  mind  to  know  where 
these  several  characters  are  to  be  met  with,  I  could  direct  him 
to  a  whole  club  of  Drum_s  ;  not  to  mention  another  of  Bao-- 
pipes,  which  I  have  before  given  some  account  of  in  my  des- 
cription of  our  nightly  meetings  in  Sheer-lane.  The  Lutes  may 
often  be  met  with  in  couples  upon  the  banks  of  a  crystal 
stream,  or  in  the  retreats  of  shady  woods,  and  flowery  meadows  ; 
which,  for  different  reasons,  are  likewise  the  great  resort  of  your 
Hunting-horns.  Bass-viols  are  frequently  to  be  found  over  a 
glass  of  stale-beer,  and  a  pipe  of  tobacco  ;  wdiereas  those  who 
set  up  for  Violins,  seldom  fail  to  make  their  appearance  at 
Will's  once  every  evening.  You  may  meet  with  a  Trumpet 
any  where  on  the  other  side  of  Charing-cross. 

That  we  may  draw  something  for  advantage  in  life  out 
of  the  foregoing  discourse,  I  must  intreat  my  reader  to  make  a 
narrow  search  into  his  life  and  conversation,  and,  upon  his 
leaving  any  company,  to  examine  himself  seriously,  whether  he 
has  behaved  himself  in  it  like  a  Drum  or  a  Trumpet,  a  Violin 
or  a  Bass-viol  ;  and  accordingly  endeavour  to  mend  his  music 
for  the  future.  For  my  own  part,  I  must  confess,  I  was  a 
Drum  for  many  years  ;  nay,  and  a  very  noisy  one,  until, 
having  polished  myself  a  little  in  good  company,  I  threw  as 
much  of  the  Trumpet  into  my  conversation,  as  was  possible  for 
a  man  of  an  impetuous  temper,  by  which  mixture  of  different 
musics  I  look  upon  myself,  during  the  course  of  many  years,  to 
have  resembled  a  Tabor  and  Pipe,     I  have  since  verv  much 


290  THE    TATLER.  [Xo.  155- 

eiideavoured  at  the  sweetness  of  the  Lute  ;  but,  in  spite  of  all 
my  resolutions,  I  must  confess,  with  great  confusion,  that  I 
find  myself  daily  degenerating  into  a  Bag-pipe  ;  whether  it  be 
the  effect  of  my  old  age,  or  of  the  company  I  keep,  I  know 
not.  All  that  I  can  do,  is  to  keep  a  watch  over  my  conversa- 
tion, and  to  silence  the  Drone  as  soon  as  I  find  it  begin  to  hum 
in  my  discourse,  being  determined  rather  to  hear  the  notes  of 
others,  than  to  play  out  of  time,  and  encroach  upon  their  parts 
in  the  consort  by  the  noise  of  so  tiresome  an  instrument. 


THE  POLITICAL  UPHOLSTERER. 

No.  155.    THURSDAY,  April  6,  1710.     [Addison.] 

Aliena  negotia  curat, 


Excussus  propriis.  HoK.  3  Sat.  ii.  19. 

When  he  had  lost  all  business  of  his  own, 
He  ran  in  quest  of  news  through  all  the  town. 

There  lived  some  years  since,  within  my  neighbourhood,  a 
very  grave  person,  an  upholsterer,*  who  seemed  a  man  of  more 
than  ordinary  application  to  business.  He  was  a  very  early 
riser,  and  was  often  abroad  two  or  three  hours  before  any  of 
his  neighbours.  He  had  a  particular  carefulness  in  the 
knitting  of  his  brows,  and  a  kind  of  impatience  in  all  his 
motions,  that  plainly  discovered  he  was  always  intent  on 
matters  of  importance.  Upon  my  inquiry  into  his  life  and 
conversation,  I  found  him  to  be  the  greatest  newsmonger  in 
our  quarter ;  that  he  rose  before  day  to  read  the  Post-man  ; 
and  that  he  would  take  two  or  three  turns  to  the  other  end  of 
the  town  before  his  neighbours  were  up,  to  see  if  there  were 
any  Dutch  mails  come  in.  He  had  a  wife  and  several  children  ; 
but  was  much  more  inquisitive  to  know  what  passed  in  Poland 
than  in  his  own  family,  and  was  in  greater  pain  and  anxiety  of 

*  Arne,  an  upholsterer  in  Covent  Garden,  was,  it  is  said,  the  original  of 
the  politician  exposed  iu  this  Paper, 


No.  Too.]  THE    POLITICAL    UPHOLSTERER.  291 

mind  for  King  Augustus's  welfare,  than  that  of  his  nearest 
relations.*  He  looked  extremely  thin  in  a  dearth  of  news,  and 
never  enjoyed  himself  in  a  westerly  wind.  This  indefatigable 
kind  of  life  was  the  ruin  of  his  shop  ;  for,  about  the  time  that 
his  favourite  prince  left  the  crown  of  Poland,  he  broke  and 
disappeared. 

This  man  and  his  affairs  had  been  long  out  of  my  mind, 
until  about  three  days  ago,  as  I  was  walking  in  St.  James's 
Park,  I  heard  somebody  at  a  distance  hemming  after  me  :  and 
who  should  it  be  but  my  old  neighbour  the  upholsterer  ?  I 
saw  he  was  reduced  to  extreme  poverty,  by  certain  shabby 
superfluities  in  his  dress  ;  for,  notwithstanding  that  it  was  a 
very  sultry  day  for  the  time  of  the  year,  he  wore  a  loose  great- 
coat and  a  muff,  with  a  Jong  campaujn  ivifj  out  of  curl ;  to 
wliich  he  had  added  the  ornament  of  a  pair  of  hlaclc  garters 
luclded  under  the  Jcnee.-\  U})on  his  coming  to  me,  I  was  going 
to  inquire  into  his  present  circumstances  ;  but  was  prevented 
by  his  asking  me,  with  a  whisper,  "  whether  the  last  letters 
brought  any  accounts  that  one  might  rely  upon  from 
Bender  ?"  +  I  told  him,  "  None  that  I  heard  of;  "  and  asked 
him,  "  whether  he  had  yet  married  his  eldest  daughter  ?  "  He 
told  me,  "  no.  But  pray,"  says  he,  "  tell  me  sincerely,  what 
are  your  thoughts  of  the  king  of  Sweden  ?  "  For  though  his 
w-ife  and  children  were  starring,  I  found  his  chief  concern  at 
present  was  for  this  great  monarch.  I  told  him,  "that  I 
looked  upon  him  as  one  of  the  first  heroes  of  the  age."  "  But 
pray,"  says  he,  "  do  you  think  there  is  any  truth  in  the  story  of 
his  wound  ? "  And  finding  me  surprised  at  the  question, 
"Nay,"  says  he,  "I  only  propose  it  to  you."  I  answered, 
"  that  I  thought  there  was  no  reason  to  doubt  of  it."  "  But 
why  in  the  heel,"  says  he,  "  more  than  in  any  other  part  of 
the  body  ?  "  "  Because,"  said  T,  "  the  bullet  chanced  to  light 
there." 

*  By  tlie  defeat  of  the  King  of  Sweden  by  Russia  at  Pultowa,  Frederick 
Augustus  was  restored  to  his  throne  of  Poland. 

t  Black  garters  were  then  very  unfashionable. 

t  After  his  defeat  at  Pultowa,  Charles  XII.  of  Sweden  escaped  with  diffi- 
culty to  Bender. 


292  THE    TATLER.  [Xo.  loo. 

This  extraordinary  dialogue  was  no  sooner  ended,  but  he 
began  to  launch  out  into  a  long  dissertation  upon  the  affairs  of 
the  North  ;  and  after  having  spent  some  time  on  them,  he 
told  me,  "he  was  in  a  great  perplexity  how  to  reconcile  "The 
Supplement"  with  "The  English-Post,"  and  had  been  just 
now  examining  what  the  other  papers  say  upon  the  same 
subject.  ^' '  The  Daily  Courant,'  "  says  he,  "  has  these  words  : 
'  We  have  advices  from  very  good  hands,  that  a  certain  prince 
has  some  matters  of  great  importance  under  consideration.' 
This  is  very  mysterious  ;  but  the  Post-boy  leaves  us  more  in 
the  dark  ;  for  he  tells  us,  '  That  there  are  private  intimations 
of  measures  taken  by  a  certain  prince,  which  time  will  bring 
to  light.'  Now  the  '  Post-man  V'  says  he,  "  who  uses  to  be  very 
clear,  refers  to  the  same  news  in  these  vfords  ;  '  The  late  con- 
duct of  a  certain  prince  aifords  great  matter  of  speculation.' 
Tills  certain  prince,"  says  the  upholsterer,  "  whom  they  are  all 

so  cautious  of  naming,  I  take  to  be ."     Upon   which, 

though  there  was  nobody  near  us,  he  whispered  something  in 
my  ear,  which  I  did  not  hear,  or  think  worth  my  while  to  make 
him  repeat. 

We  were  now  got  to  the  upper  end  of  the  Mall,  where  were 
three  or  four  very  odd  fellows  sitting  together  upon  the  bench. 
These  I  found  were  all  of  them  politicians,  who  used  to  sun 
themselves  in  that  place  every  day  about  dinner-time.  Observ- 
ing them  to  be  curiosities  in  their  kind,  and  my  fi'iend's 
acquaintance,  I  sat  down  among  them. 

The  chief  politician  of  the  bench  was  a  great  asserter  of 
paradoxes.  He  told  us,  with  a  seeming  concern,  "  that,  by 
some  news  he  had  lately  read  from  Muscovy,  it  appeared  to 
him  that  there  was  a  storm  gathering  in  the  Black  Sea,  which 
might  in  time  do  hurt  to  the  naval  forces  of  this  nation."  To 
this  he  added,  "  that,  for  his  part,  he  could  not  wish  to  see  the 
Turk  driven  out  of  Europe,  which  he  believed  could  not  but  be 
prejudicial  to  our  woollen  manufacture.''  He  then  told  us, 
"  that  he  looked  upon  those  extraordinary  revolutions  which 
had  lately  happened  in  those  parts  of  the  world,  to  have  risen 
chiefly  fi'om  two  persons  who  were  not  much  talked  of ;  and 


No.  lo5.]  THE    POLITICAL    UPHOLSTERER.  293 

those,"  says  he, ''  are  Prince  Menzikoff,  and  the  Duchess  of 
Mirandola."  He  backed  his  assertions  with  so  many  broken 
hints,  and  such  a  show  of  depth  and  wisdom,  that  we  gave 
ourselves  up  to  his  opinions. 

The  discourse  at  length  fell  upon  a  point  which  seldom 
escapes  a  knot  of  true-born  Englishmen,  whether,  in  case  of  a 
religious  war,  the  Protestants  would  not  be  too  strong  for  the 
Papists  ?  This  we  unanimously  determined  on  the  Protestant 
side.  One  who  sat  on  my  right-hand,  and,  as  I  found  by  his 
discourse,  had  been  in  the  West  Indies,  assured  us,  "  that  it 
would  be  a  very  easy  matter  for  the  Protestants  to  beat  the 
Pope  at  sea  ;  "  and  added,  "  that  whenever  such  a  war  does 
break  out,  it  must  turn  to  the  good  of  the  Leeward  Islands." 
Upon  this,  one  who  sat  at  the  end  of  the  bench,  and  as  I  after- 
wards found,  was  the  geographer  of  the  company,  said,  ''  that 
in  case  the  Papists  should  drive  the  Protestants  from  these 
parts  of  Europe,  when  the  worst  came  to  the  worst,  it  would 
be  impossible  to  beat  them  out  of  Norway  and  Greenland, 
provided  the  Northern  crowns  hold  together,  and  the  czar  of 
Muscovy  stand  neuter." 

He  farther  told  us,  for  our  comfort,  "  that  there  were  vast 
tracks  of  lands  about  the  pole,  inhabited  neither  by 
Protestants  nor  Papists,  and  of  greater  extent  than  all  the 
Roman-Catholic  dominions  in  Europe." 

When  we  had  fully  discussed  this  point,  my  friend  the 
upholsterer  began  to  exert  himself  upon  the  present  negotia- 
tions of  peace  ;  in  which  he  deposed  princes,  settled  the 
bounds  of  kingdoms,  and  balanced  the  power  of  Europe,  with 
great  justice  and  impartiality. 

I  at  length  took  my  leave  of  the  company,  and  was  going 
away  ;  but  had  not  gone  thirty  yards,  before  the  upholsterer 
hemmed  again  after  me.  Upon  his  advancing  towards  me 
with  a  whisper,  I  expected  to  hear  some  secret  piece  of  news, 
which  he  had  not  thought  ht  to  communicate  to  the  bench  ; 
but,  instead  of  that,  he  desired  me  in  my  ear  to  lend  him  half 
a  crown.  In  compassion  to  so  needy  a  statesman,  and  to 
dissipate  the  confusion  I  found  he  was  in,  I  told  him,  "  if  he 


294  THE    TATLER.  [Xo.  158. 

pleased,  I  would  give  him  five  shillings,  to  receive  five  pounds 
of  him  when  the  great  Turk  was  driven  out  of  Constanti- 
nople ;  "  which  he  very  readily  accepted,  but  not  before  he  had 
laid  down  to  me  the  impossibility  of  such  an  event,  as  the 
affairs  of  Europe  now  stand. 

This  paper  I  design  for  the  particular  benefit  of  those  worthy 
citizens  who  live  more  in  a  coffee-house  than  in  their  shops,  and 
whose  thoughts  are  so  taken  up  with  the  affairs  of  the  allies, 
that  they  forget  their  customers. 


TOM  FOLIO. 

No.  158.    THURSDAY,  April  13,  1710.     [Addison.] 

Faciunt  nae  iutelligendo,  ut  nihil  intelligant.         Tkr. 
While  they  pretend  to  know  more  than  others,  they  know  nothing  in  reality. 

Tom  Folio*  is  a  broker  in  learning,  employed  to  get 
together  good  editions,  and  stock  the  libraries  of  great  men. 
There  is  not  a  sale  of  books  begins  until  Tom  Foho  is  seen  at 
the  door.  There  is  not  an  auction  where  his  name  is  not  heard, 
and  that  too  in  the  very  nick  of  time,  in  the  critical  moment, 
before  the  last  decisive  stroke  of  the  hammer.  There  is  not  a 
subscription  goes  forward  in  which  Tom  is  not  privy  to  the  first 
rough  draught  of  the  proposals  ;  nor  a  catalogue  printed,  that 
doth  not  come  to  him  wet  from  the  press.  He  is  an  uni- 
versal scholar,  so  far  as  the  title-page  of  all  authors  ;  knows 
the  manuscripts  in  which  they  were  discovered,  the  editions 
through  which  they  have  passed,  with  the  praises  or  censures 
which  they  have  received  from  the  several  members  of  the 
learned  world.  He  has  a  greater  esteem  for  Aldus  and 
Elzevir,  than  for  Virgil  and  Horace.    If  you  talk  of  Herodotus, 

*  The  person  supposed  to  be  alluded  to  here  was  Thomas  Rawlinson,  the 
eldest  son  of  Sir  Thomas  Rawliusou,  L'-a-d  Mayor  of  London  in  1706.  He 
collected  a  great  stock  of  books,  which  were  sold  by  auction  after  his  decease. 


No.  158.]  TOM    FOLIO.  295 

he  breaks  out  into  a  panegyric  upon  Harry  Stephens.  He 
thinks  he  gives  you  an  account  of  an  author,  when  he  tells 
you  the  subject  he  treats  of,  the  name  of  the  editor,  and  the 
year  in  wliich  it  was  printed.  Or  if  you  draw  liim  into  farther 
particulars,  he  cries  up  the  goodness  of  the  paper,  extols  the 
diligence  of  the  corrector,  and  is  transported  with  the  beauty 
of  the  letter.  This  he  looks  upon  to  be  sound  learning,  and 
substantial  criticism.  As  for  those  who  talk  of  the  fineness  of^ 
style,  and  the  justness  of  thought,  or  describe  the  brightness  of  "" 
any  particular  passages  ;  nay,  though  they  themselves  write  in 
the  genius  and  spirit  of  the  author  they  admire  ;  Tom  looks 
upon  them  as  men  of  superficial  learning,  and  flashy  parts. 

I  had  yesterday  morning  a  visit  from  this  learned  ideot,  for 
that  is  the  light  in  which  I  consider  every  pedant,  when  I  dis- 
covered in  him  some  little  touches  of  the  coxcomb,  which  I  had 
not  before  observed.  Being  very  full  of  the  figure  which  he 
makes  in  the  republic  of  letters,  and  wonderfully  satisfied  with 
his  great  stock  of  knowledge,  he  gave  me  broad  intimations, 
that  he  did  not  believe  in  all  points  as  his  forefathers  had  done. 
He  then  communicated  to  me  a  thought  of  a  certain  author 
upon  a  passage  of  Yirgil's  account  of  the  dead,  which  I  made 
the  subject  of  a  late  paper.  This  thought  hath  taken  very  much 
among  men  of  Tom's  pitch  and  understanding,  though  uni- 
versally exploded  by  all  that  know  how  to  construe  Yirgil,  or 
have  any  relish  of  antiquity.  Xot  to  trouble  my  reader  with 
it,  I  found,  upon  the  whole,  that  Tom  did  not  believe  a  future 
state  of  rewards  and  punishments,  because  ^neas,  at  his  leav- 
ing the  empire  of  the  dead,  passed  through  the  gate  of  ivory, 
and  not  through  that  of  horn.  Knowing  that  Tom  had  not 
sense  enough  to  give  up  an  opinion  which  he  had  once  re- 
ceived, that  I  might  avoid  wrangling,  I  told  him  "  that  Yirgil 
possibly  had  his  oversights  as  well  as  another  author."  "  Ah  ! 
Mr.  Bickerstafi","  says  he,  "  you  would  have  another  opinion  of 
him,  if  you  would  read  him  in  Daniel  Heinsius's  edition.  I 
have  perused  him  myself  several  times  in  that  edition,"  con- 
tinued he  ;  '*  and  after  the  strictest  and  most  malicious 
examination,  could  find  but  two  faults  in  him  ;  one  of  them  is 

X 


296  THE    TATLER.  [Xo.  158. 

in  the  ^neids,  where  there  are  two  commas  instead  of  a 
parenthesis  ;  and  another  in  the  third  Georgic,  where  you  may 
find  a  semicolon  turned  upside  down."  "  Perhaps,"  said  I, 
*'  these  were  not  Virgil's  faults,  but  those  of  the  transcriber." 
"  I  do  not  design  it,"  says  Tom,  "  as  a  reflection  on  Virgil ;  on 
the  contrary,  I  know  that  all  the  manuscripts  declaim  against 
such  a  punctaation.  Oh  !  Mr.  Bickerstaff,"  says  he,  "  what 
would  a  man  give  to  see  one  simile  of  Virgil  writ  in  his  own 
hand  ?  "  I  asked  him  which  w^as  the  simile  he  meant ;  but 
was  answered,  any  simile  in  Virgil.  He  then  told  me  all  the 
secret  history  in. the  commonwealth  of  learning  ;  of  modern 
pieces  that  had  the  names  of  ancient  authors  annexed  to  them  ; 
of  all  the  books  that  were  now  writing  or  printing  in  the 
several  parts  of  Europe  ;  of  many  amendments  which  are 
made,  and  not  yet  published,  and  a  thousand  other  particulars, 
which  I  would  not  have  my  memory  burdened  with  for  a 
Vatican.* 

At  length,  being  fully  persuaded  that  I  thoroughly  admired 
him,  and  looked  upon  him  as  a  prodigy  of  learning,  he  took  his 
leave.  I  know  several  of  Tom's  class,  who  are  professed 
admirers  of  Tasso,  without  understanding  a  word  of  Italian  ; 
and  one  in  particular,  that  carries  a  Pastor  Ficlo  in  his  pocket, 
in  which,  I  am  sure,  he  is  acquainted  with  no  other  beauty  but 
the  clearness  of  the  character. 

There  is  another  kind  of  pedant,  Avho,  with  all  Tom  Folio's 
impertinences,  hath  greater  superstructures  and  embellishments 
of  Greek  and  Latin ;  and  is  still  more  insupportable  than  the 
other,  in  the  same  degree  as  he  is  more  learned.  Of  this  kind  very 
often  are  editors,  commentators,  interpreters,  scholiasts,  and 
critics  ;  and,  in  short,  all  men  of  deep  learning  without  common 
sense.  These  persons  set  a  greater  value  on  themselves  for 
having  found  out  the  meaning  of  a  passage  in  Greek,  than 
upon  the  author  for  having  written  it ;  nay,  will  allow  the 
passage  itself  not  to  have  any  beauty  in  it,  at  the  same  time 
that  they  would  be  considered  as  the  greatest  men  of  the  age, 
for  having  interpreted  it.     They  will  look  with  contempt  on 

*  For  all  tlie  Viooks  in  the  Vatican  library. 


Xo.  161.]  THE    GODDESS    OF    LIBERTY.  297 

the  most  beautiful  poems  that  have  been  composed  by  any  of 
their  contemporaries ;  but  will  lock  themselves  up  in  their 
studies  for  a  twelvemonth  together,  to  correct,  publish,  and 
expound  such  trifles  of  antiquity,  as  a  modern  author  would  be 
contemned  for.  Men  of  the  strictest  morals,  severest  lives,  and 
the  gravest  professions,  will  write  volumes  upon  an  idle  sonnet, 
that  is  originally  in  Greek  or  Latin  ;  give  editions  of  the  most 
immoral  authors  ;  and  spin  out  whole  pages  upon  the  various 
readings  of  a  lewd  expression.  All  that  can  be  said  in  excuse 
for  them  is,  that  their  works  sufficiently  shew  they  have  no 
taste  of  their  authors  ;  and  that  what  they  do  in  this  kind,  is 
out  of  their  great  learning,  and  not  out  of  any  levity  or  lascivi- 
ousness  of  temper. 

A  pedant  of  this  nature  is  wonderfully  well  described  in  six 
lines  of  Boileau,  with  which  I  shall  conclude  his  character  : 

Un  Pedant  enyvre  de  sa  value  science, 
Tout  herisse  de  Grec,  tout  boufti  darrogauce. 
Et  qui  de  mille  auteurs  retenus  mot  pour  mot, 
Dans  sa  tete  entassez  n'a  souvent  fait  qu'un  sot. 
Croit  qu'un  livre  fait  tout,  and  que  sans  Ai-istote 
La  raison  ne  voit  goute,  and  le  bon  sens  radote. 

Brim-full  of  learning  see  that  pedant  stride, 
Bristling  with  horrid  Greek,  and  puff'd  with  pride  ! 
A  thousand  authors  he  in  vain  has  read, 
And  with  their  maxims  stuffVl  his  empty  head  ; 
And  thinks  that,  without  Aristotle's  rule, 
Reason  is  blind,  and  common  sense  a  fool. 


THE   GODDESS  OF  LIBERTY. 

No.  161.    THURSDAY,  April  20,  1710.     [Addisox.] 

Nunquam  Libertas  gratior  e.xtat 


Quam  sub  rege  pio. 

Never  does  Liberty  appear  more  amiable  than  under  the  government  of  a 
pious  and  good  prince. 

I  WAS  walking  two  or  three  days  ago  in  a  very  pleasant 
retirement,   and   amusing   myself  with   the  reading   of  that 

X  2 


298  THE    TATLER.  [No.  161. 

ancient  and  beautiful  allegory,  called  "  The  Table  of  Cebes." 
I  was  at  last  so  tired  with  my  walk,  that  I  sat  down  to  rest 
myself  upon  a  bench  that  stood  in  the  midst  of  an  agreeable 
shade.  The  music  of  the  birds,  that  filled  all  the  trees  about 
me,  lulled  me  asleep  before  I  was  ^aware  of  it ;  which  was 
followed  by  a  dream,  that  I  impute  in  some  measure  to  the 
foregoing  author,  who  had  made  an  impression  upon  my 
imagination,  and  put  me  into  his  own  way  of  thinking. 

I  fancied  myself  among  the  Alps,  and,  as  it  is  natural  in  a 
dream,  seemed  every  moment  to  bound  from  one  summit  to 
another,  until  at  last,  having  made  this  airy  progress  over  the 
tops  of  several  mountains,  I  arrived  at  the  very  centre  of  those 
broken  rocks  and  precipices.  I  here,  methought,  saw  a  pro- 
digious circuit  of  hills,  that  reached  above  the  clouds,  and 
encompassed  a  large  space  of  ground,  which  I  had  a  great 
curiosity  to  look  into.  I  thereupon  continued  my  former  way 
of  travelling  through  a  great  variety  of  winter  scenes,  until  I 
had  gained  the  top  of  these  white  mountains,  which  seemed 
another  Alps  of  snow.  I  looked  down  from  hence  into  a 
spacious  plain,  which  was  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  this 
mound  of  hills,  and  which  presented  me  with  the  most  agree- 
able prospect  I  had  ever  seen.  There  was  a  greater  variety  of 
colours  in  the  embroidery  of  the  meadows,  a  more  lively  green 
in  the  leaves  and  grass,  a  brighter  crystal  in  the  streams,  than 
what  I  ever  met  with  in  any  other  region.  The  light  itself 
had  something  more  shining  and  glorious  in  it,  than  that  of 
which  the  day  is  made  in  other  places.  I  was  wonderfully 
astonished  at  the  discovery  of  such  a  paradise  amidst  the 
wildness  of  those  cold,  hoary  landskips  which  lay  about  it  ; 
but  found  at  length,  that  this  happy  region  was  inhabited  by 
the  goddess  of  Liberty  ;  Avhose  presence  softened  the  rigours 
of  the  climate,  enriched  the  barrenness  of  the  soil,  and  more 
than  supplied  the  absence  of  the  sun.  The  place  was  covered 
with  a  wonderful  profusion  of  flowers,  that,  without  being 
disposed  into  regular  borders  and  parterres,  grew  promis- 
cuonslv  ;  and  had  a  greater  beauty  in  their  natural  luxuriancy 
and  disorder,  than  they  could  have  received  from  the  checks 


No.  161.]  THE    GODDESS    OF    LIBERTY.  299 

and  restraints  of  art.  There  was  a  river  that  arose  out  of  the 
south-side  of  the  mountain,  that,  by  an  infinite  number  of 
turnings  and  windings,  seemed  to  visit  every  plant,  and  cherish 
the  several  beauties  of  the  spring,  with  which  the  fields 
abounded.  After  having  run  to  and  fro  in  a  wonderful  variety 
of  meanders,  as  unwilling  to  leave  so  charming  a  place,  it  at 
last  throws  itself  into  the  hollow  of  a  mountaiu  ;  from  whence 
it  passes  under  a  long  range  of  rocks,  and  at  length  rises  in 
that  part  of  the  Alps  where  the  inhabitants  think  is  the  first 
source  of  the  Ehone.  This  river,  after  having  made  its 
progress  through  those  free  nations,  stagnates  in  a  huge  lake 
at  the  leaving  of  them ;  and  no  sooner  enters  into  the  regions 
of  slavery,  but  it  runs  through  them  with  an  incredible 
rapidity,  and  takes  its  shortest  way  to  the  sea. 

I  descended  into  the  happy  fields  that  lay  beneath  me,  and 
in  the  midst  of  them  beheld  the  goddess  sitting  upon  a  throne. 
She  had  nothing  to  enclose  her  but  the  bounds  of  her  own 
dominions,  and  nothing  over  her  head  but  the  heavens.  Every 
glance  of  her  eye  cast  a  track  of  light  where  it  fell,  that 
revived  the  spring,  and  made  all  things  smile  about  her.  Islj 
heart  grew  cheerful  at  the  sight  of  her ;  and  as  she  looked 
upon  me,  I  found  a  certain  confidence  growing  in  me,  and  such 
an  inward  resolution  as  I  never  felt  before  that  time. 

On  the  left  hand  of  the  goddess  sat  the  Genius  of  the 
Commonwealth,  with  the  cap  of  Liberty  on  her  head,  and  in 
her  hand  a  wand,  like  that  with  which  a  Roman  citizen  used  to 
give  his  slaves  their  freedom.  There  was  something  mean  and 
vulgar,  but  at  the  same  time  exceeding  bold  and  daring,  in  her 
air  ;  her  eyes  were  full  of  fire  ;  but  had  in  them  such  crafts  of 
fierceness  and  cruelty,  as  made  her  appear  to  me  rather  dread- 
ful than  amiable.  On  her  shoulders  she  wore  a  mantle,  on 
which  there  was  wrought  a  great  confusion  of  figures.  As  it 
flew  in  the  wind,  I  could  not  discern  the  particular  design  of 
them,  but  saw  wounds  in  the  bodies  of  some,  and  agonies  in 
the  faces  of  others  ;  and  over  one  part  of  it  could  read  in 
letters  of  blood,  ''  The  Ides  of  March." 

On    the   right-hand   of    the    goddess   was    the   Genius   of 


300  THE    TATLER.  [No.  161. 

Monarchy.  She  was  clothed  in  the  whitest  ermine,  and  wore 
a  crown  of  the  purest  gold  upon  her  head.  In  her  hand  she 
held  a  sceptre  like  that  which  is  borne  by  the  British 
monarchs.  A  couple  of  tame  lions  lay  crouching*  at  her  feet. 
Her  countenance  had  in  it  a  very  great  majesty  without  any 
mixture  of  terror.  Her  voice  was  like  the  voice  of  an  angel, 
filled  with  so  much  sweetness,  accompanied  with  such  an  air 
of  condescension,  as  tempered  the  awfulness  of  her  appearance, 
and  equally  inspired  love  and  veneration  into  the  hearts  of  all 
that  beheld  her. 

In  the  train  of  the  goddess  of  Liberty  were  the  several  Arts 
and  Sciences,  who  all  of  them  flourished  underneath  her  eye. 
One  of  them  in  particular  made  a  greater  figure  than  any  of 
the  rest,  who  held  a  thunderbolt  in  her  hand  which  had  the 
power  of  melting,  piercing,  or  breaking,  every  thing  that  stood 
in  its  way.     The  name  of  this  goddess  was  Eloquence. 

There  were  two  other  dependent  goddesses,  who  made  a  very 
conspicuous  figure  in  this  blissful  region.  The  first  of  them 
was  seated  upon  a  hill,  that  had  every  plant  growing  out  of  it, 
which  the  soil  was  in  its  own  nature  capable  of  producing. 
The  other  was  seated  in  a  little  island,  that  was  covered  with 
grooves  of  spices,  olives  and  orange-trees  ;  and  in  a  word,  with 
the  products  of  every  foreign  clime.  The  name  of  the  first  was 
Plenty,  of  the  second  Commerce.  The  first  leaned  her  right 
arm  upon  a  plough,  and  under  her  left  held  a  huge  horn,  out 
of  which  she  poured  a  luliole  autumn  of  fruits.  The  other  wore 
a  rostral  crown  upon  her  head,  and  kept  her  eyes  fixed  upon  a 
compass. 

I  was  wonderfully  pleased  in  ranging  through  this  delight- 
ful place,  and  the  more  so,  because  it  was  not  incumbered  with 
fences  and  inclosures  ;  until  at  length,  methought,  I  sprung 
from  the  ground,  and  pitched  upon  the  top  a  hill,  that  pre- 
sented several  objects  to  my  sight  which  I  had  not  before 
taken  notice  of.  The  winds  that  passed  over  this  flowery 
plain,  and  through  the  tops  of  the  trees  which  were  full  of 
blossoms,  blew  upon  me  in  such  a  continued  breeze  of  sweets, 
that  I  was  wonderfully  charmed  with  my  situation.     I   here 


Xo.  161.]  THE    GODDESS    OF    LIBERTY.  301 

saw  all  the  inner  declivities  of  that  great  circuit  of  mountains, 
whose  outside  was  covered  with  snow,  over-grown  with  huge 
forests  of  fir-trees,  wliich  indeed  are  very  frequently  found  in 
other  parts  of  the  Alps.  These  trees  were  inhabited  by  storks, 
that  came  thither  in  great  flights  from  very  distant  quarters  of 
the  world.  Methought,  I  was  pleased  in  my  dream  to  see  what 
became  of  these  birds,  when,  upon  leaving  the  places  to  which 
they  make  an  annual  visit,  they  rise  in  great  flocks  so  high 
until  they  are  out  of  sight,  and  for  that  reason  have  been 
thought  by  some  modern  philosophers  to  take  a  flight  to  the 
moon.  But  my  eyes  were  soon  diverted  from  this  prospect, 
when  I  observed  two  great  gaps  that  led  through  this  circuit 
of  mountains,  where  guards  and  watches  were  posted  day  and 
night.  Upon  examination,  I  found  that  there  were  two 
formidable  enemies  encamped  before  each  of  these  avenues, 
who  kept  the  place  in  a  perpetual  alarm,  and  watched  all 
opportunities  of  invading  it. 

Tyranny  was  at  the  head  of  one  of  these  armies,  dressed  in 
an  Eastern  habit,  and  grasping  in  her  hand  an  iron  sceptre. 
Behind  her  was  Barbarity,  with  the  garb  and  complexion  of  an 
Ethiopian ;  Ignorance,  with  a  turban  upon  her  head  ;  and 
Persecution  holding  up  a  bloody  flag,  embroidered  with  flower- 
de-luces.  I  These  were  followed  by  Oppression,  Poverty,  Famine, 
Torture,  and  a  dreadful  train  of  appearances  that  made 
me  tremble  to  behold  them.  Among  the  baggage  of  this  army, 
I  could  discover  racks,  wheels,  chains,  and  gibbets,  with  all  the 
instruments  art  could  invent  to  make  human  nature  miserable. 
Before  the  other  avenue  I  saw  Licentiousness,  dressed  in  a 
garment  not  unlike  the  Polish  cassock,  and  leading  up  a  whole 
army  of  monsters,  such  as  Clamour,  with  a  hoarse  voice  and  an 
hundred  tongues  ;  Confusion,  with  a  misshapen  body,  and  a 
thousand  heads  ;  Impudence,  with  a  forehead  of  brass  ;  and 
Kapine,  with  hands  of  iron.  The  tumult,  noise,  and  uproar  in 
this  quarter,  were  so  very  great,  that  they  disturbed  my  imagi- 
nation more  than  is  consistent  with  sleep,  and  by  that  means 
awaked  me. 


302  THE    TATLEfi.  [No.  163. 

NED   SOFTLY. 

No.  1G3.     TUESDAY,  April  25,  1710.      [Addison.] 

Idem  inficeto  est  inficetior  rure, 

Simul  poemata  attigit ;  neque  idem  iinquam 

^que  est  beatus,  ac  poema  cum  scribit  : 

Tam  gaudet  in  se,  tamque  se  ipse  miratur. 

Nimirum  idem  omnes  fallimur  ;  neque  est  quisquam 

Quem  non  in  aliqua  re  videre  Suffenum 

Possis Catul.  de  Suffeno,  xx.  14. 

Suffenus  has  no  more  wit  than  a  mere  clown  when  he  attempts  to  write 
verses,  and  yet  he  is  never  happier  than  when  he  is  scribbling  ;  so  much  does 
be  admire  himself  and  his  compositions.  And,  indeed,  this  is  the  foible  of 
every  one  of  us,  for  there  is  no  man  living  who  is  not  a  Suifenus  in  one  thing 
or  other. 

I  YESTERDAY  Came  hither*  about  two  hours  before  the 
company  generally  make  their  appearance,  with  a  design  to 
read  over  all  the  newspapers  ;  but,  upon  my  sitting  down,  I 
was  accosted  by  Ned  Softly,  who  saw  me  from  a  corner  in  the 
other  end  of  the  room,  where  I  found  he  had  been  writing 
something.  "  Mr.  Bickerstaff,"  says  he,  "  I  observe  by  a  late 
Paper  of  yours,  that  you  and  I  are  just  of  a  humour  ;  for  you 
must  know,  of  all  impertinences,  there  is  nothing  which  I  so 
much  hate  as  news.  I  never  read  a  Gazette  in  my  life  ;  and 
never  trouble  my  head  about  our  armies,  whether  they  win  or 
lose,  or  in  what  part  of  the  world  they  lie  encamped."  With- 
out giving  me  time  to  reply,  he  drew  a  paper  of  verses  out  of 
his  pocket,  telling  me,  "  that  he  had  something  which  would 
entertain  me  more  agreeably  ;  and  that  he  would  desire  myjudg- 
ment  upon  every  line,  for  that  we  had  time  enough  before  us 
until  the  company  came  in." 

Ned  Softly  is  a  very  pretty  poet,  and  a  great  admirer  of 
easy  lines.  Waller  is  his  favourite  :  and  as  that  admirable 
writer  has  the  best  and  worst  verses  of  any  among  our  great 
English  poets,  Ned  Softly,  has  got  all  the  bad  ones  without 
book  ;  which  he  repeats  upon  occasion,  to  shew  his  reading, 

*  Will's  Coffee-house. 


No.  163.]  NED    SOFTLY.  303 

and  garnish  his  conversation.  Ned  is  indeed  a  true  English 
reader,  incapable  of  relishing  the  great  and  masterly  strokes 
of  this  art ;  but  wonderfully  pleased  with  the  little  Gothic 
ornaments  of  epigrammatical  conceits,  turns,  points,  and 
quibbles,  which  are  so  ft-equent  in  the  most  admired  of  our 
English  poets,  and  practised  by  those  who  want  genius  and 
strength  to  represent,  after  the  manner  of  the  ancients, 
simplicity  in  its  natural  beauty  and  perfection. 

Finding  myself  unavoidably  engaged  in  such  a  conversation, 
I  was  resolved  to  turn  my  pain  into  a  pleasure,  and  to  divert 
myself  as  well  as  I  could  with  so  very  odd  a  fellow.  "  You 
must  understand,"  says  Ned,  "  that  the  sonnet  I  am  going  to 
read  to  you  was  written  upon  a  lady,  who  shewed  me  some 
verses  of  her  own  making,  and  is,  perhaps,  the  best  poet  of  our 
age.     But  you  shall  hear  it," 

Upon  which  he  began  to  read  as  follows  : 

TO  MIRA  ON  HER  INCOMPARABLE  POEMS. 


When  dress'd  in  laurel  wreaths  you  shine. 

And  tune  your  soft  melodious  notes, 
You  seem  a  sister  of  the  Nine, 

Or  Phoebus'  self  in  petticoats. 

II. 

I  fancy,  when  your  song  you  sing, 

(Your  song  you  sing  with  so  much  art) 

Your  pen  was  plucked  from  Cupid's  wing  ; 
For,  ah  !  it  wounds  me  like  his  dart. 

"  Why,"  says  I,  '^  this  is  a  little  nosegay  of  conceits,  a  very 
lump  of  salt :  every  verse  has  something  in  it  that  piques  ;  and 
then  the  dart  in  the  last  line  is  certainly  as  pretty  a  sting  in 
the  tail  of  an  epigram,  for  so  I  think  you  critics  call  it,  as  ever 
entered  into  the  thought  of  a  poet."  "  Dear  Mr.  Bickerstaff," 
says  he,  shaking  me  by  the  hand,  "  everybody  knows  you  to  be 
a  judge  of  these  things  ;  and  to  tell  you  truly,  I  read  over 
Koscommon's  translation  of  '  Horace's  Art  of  Poetry '  three 
several  times,  before  I  sat  down  to  write  the  sonnet  which  I 
have   shown   you.      But  you  shall  hear  it   again,   and  pray 


304  THE    TATLER.  [No.  163. 

observe  every  line  of  it ;  for  not  one  of  them  shall  pass  vrith- 
out  your  approbation. 

When  dress'd  in  laurel  wreaths  you  shine, 

"  That  is,"  says  he,  ''  when  you  have  your  garland  on  ;  when 
you  are  writing  verses."  To  which  I  replied,  "  I  know  your 
meaning  :  a  metaphor  !  "   "The  same,"  said  he,  and  went  on. 

"  And  tune  your  soft  melodious  notes. 

Pray  observe  the  gliding  of  that  verse  ;  there  is  scarce  a  con- 
sonant in  it  :  I  took  care  to  make  it  run  upon  liquids.  Grive 
me  3' our  opinion  of  it."  ^' Truly,"  said  I,  "  I  think  it  as  good  as 
the  former."  "  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,"  says  he  ; 
"  but  mind  the  next." 

You  seem  a  sister  of  the  Nine, 

"That  is,"  says  he,  ''you  seem  a  sister  of  the  Muses  ;  for, if 
you  look  into  ancient  authors,  you  will  find  it  was  their  opinion 
that  there  were  nine  of  them."  "  I  remember  it  very  well," 
said  I  ;  *'  but  pray  proceed." 

"  Or  Phoebus'  self  in  petticoats, 

"  Phoebus,"  says  he,  *'  was  the  god  of  poetry.  These  little 
instances,  Mr.  Bickerstaff,  shew  a  gentleman's  reading.  Then, 
to  take  off  from  the  air  of  learning,  which  Phoebus  and  the 
Muses  had  given  to  this  first  stanza,  you  may  observe,  how  it 
falls  all  of  a  sudden  into  the  familiar ;   '  in  Petticoats  '  ! 

"  Or  Phoebus'  self  in  petticoats. 

"  Let  us  now,"  says  I,  "  enter  upon  the  second  stanza  ;  I 
find  the  first  line  is  still  a  continuation  of  the  metaphor, 

I  fancy,  when  your  song  you  sing." 

"  It  is  very  right,"  says  he,  ''  but  pray  observe  the  turn  of 
words  in  those  two  lines.  I  was  a  whole  hour  in  adjusting 
of  them,  and  have  still  a  doubt  upon  me,  whether  in  the 


No.  163.]  NED    SOFTLY.  305 

second  line  it  should  be  '  Your  song  you  sing  ;  or,  You  sing 
your  song  ?  '  You  shall  hear  them  both  : 

I  fancy,  when  your  song  you  sing, 

(Your  song  you  sing  with  so  much  art) 
OR 

I  fancy,  when  your  song  you  sing, 

(You  sing  your  song  with  so  much  art.)  " 

"  Truly,"  said  I,  "  the  turn  is  so  natural  either  way,  that 
you  have  made  me  almost  giddy  with  it."  "  Dear  sir,"  said  he, 
grasping  me  by  the  hand,  "  you  have  a  great  deal  of  patience  ; 
but  pray  what  do  you  think  of  the  next  verse  ? 

Your  pen  was  phick'd  from  Cupid's  wing." 

"  Think  !  "  says  I  ;  "  I  think  you  have  made  Cupid  look  like 
a  little  goose."  "  That  was  my  meaning,"  says  he  :  "  I  think  the 
ridicule  is  well  enough  hit  off.  But  we  come  now  to  the  last, 
which  sums  up  the  whole  matter. 

For.  ah  !  it  wounds  me  like  his  dart. 

'^  Pray  how  do  you  like  that  Ah  !  doth  it  not  make  a  pretty 

figure  in  that  place  ?  Ah  ! it  looks  as  if  I  felt  the  dart, 

and  cried  out  as  being  pricked  with  it. 

For,  ah  !  it  wounds  me  like  his  dart. 

"  My  friend  Dick  Easy,"  continued  he,  "  assured  me,  he 
would  rather  have  written  t\\2i{j  Ah !  than /o  have  been  the 
author  of  the  ^neid.  He  indeed  objected,  that  I  made  Mira's 
pen  like  a  quill  in  one  of  the  lines,  and  like  a  dart  in  the  other. 
But  as  to  that "  "Oh  !  as  to  that,"  says  I,  "  it  is  but  sup- 
posing Cupid  to  be  like  a  porcupine,  and  his  quills  and  darts 
will  be  the  same  thing."  He  was  going  to  embrace  me  for  the 
hint ;  but  half  a  dozen  critics  coming  into  the  room,  whose 
faces  he  did  not  like,  he  conveyed  the  sonnet  into  his  pocket, 
and  whispered  me  in  the  ear,  ''  he  would  shew  it  me  again  as 
soon  as  his  man  had  written  it  over  fair." 


306  THE    TATLER.  [No.  165. 

THE   CKITIC. 

No.  165.     SATURDAY,  April  29,  1710.     [Addison.] 

It  has  always  been  my  endeavour  to  distinguish  between 
realities  and  appearances,  and  to  separate  true  merit  from  the 
pretence  to  it.  As  it  shall  ever  be  my  study  to  make  dis- 
coveries of  this  nature  in  human  life,  and  to  settle  the  proper 
distinctions  between  the  virtues  and  perfections  of  mankind? 
and  those  false  colours  and  resemblances  of  them  that  shine 
alike  in  the  eyes  of  the  vulgar  ;  so  I  shall  be  more  particularly 
careful  to  search  into  the  various  merits  and  pretences  of  the 
learned  world.  This  is  the  more  necessary,  because  there 
seems  to  be  a  general  combination  among  the  Pedants  to 
extol  one  another's  labours,  and  cry  up  one  another's  parts  ; 
while  men  of  sense,  either  through  that  modesty  which  is 
natural  to  them,  or  the  scorn  they  have  for  such  trifling 
commendations,  enjoy  their  stock  of  knowledge,  like  a  hidden 
treasure,  with  satisfaction  and  silence.  Pedantry  indeed  in 
learning  is  like  hypocrisy  in  religion,  a  form  of  knowledge 
without  the  power  of  it  ;  that  attracts  ^the  eyes  of  the 
common  people  ;  breaks  out  in  noise  and  show  ;  and  finds 
its  reward  not  from  any  inward  pleasure  that  attends  it, 
but  from  the  praises  and  approbations  which  it  receives  from 
men. 

Of  this  shallow  species  there  is  not  a  more  importunate,  empty  ^ 
and  conceited  animal,  than  that  which  is  generally  known  by 
the  name  of  a  Critic.  This,  in  the  common  acceptation  of  the 
word,  is  one  that,  without  entering  into  the  sense  and  soul  of 
an  author,  has  a  few  general  rules,  which,  like  mechanical 
instruments,  he  applies  to  the  works  of  every  writer  ;  and  as 
they  quadrate  with  them,  pronounces  the  author  perfect  or 
defective.  He  is  master  of  a  certain  set  of  words,  as  Unity, 
Style,  Fire,  Phleym,  Easy,  Natural,  Turn,  Sentiment,  and  the 
like ;  which  he  varies,  compounds,  divides,  and  throws 
together,  in  every  part  of  his  discourse,  without  any  thought  o 


No.  165.]  THE    rRITIO.  .307 

meaning.  The  marks  you  may  know  him  by  arc,  an  elevated 
eye,  and  dogmatical  brow,  a  positive  voice,  and  a  contempt 
for  every  thing  that  comes  out,  whether  he  has  read  it  or  not. 
He  dwells  altogether  in  generals.  He  praises  or  dispraises  in 
the  lump.  He  shakes  his  head  very  frequently  at  the 
Pedantry  of  universities,  and  bursts  into  laughter  when  you 
mention  an  author  that  is  not  hioivn  at  Will's.  He  hath 
formed  his  judgment  upon  Homer,  Horace,  and  Virgil,  not 
from  their  own  works,  but  from  those  of  Rapin  and  Bossu. 
He  knows  his  own  strength  so  well,  that  he  never  dares  praise 
anything  in  which  he  has  not  a  French  author  for  his 
voucher. 

With  these  extraordinary  talents  and  accomplishments,  Sir 
Timothy  Tittle  puts  men  in  vogue,  or  condemns  them  to 
obscurity ;  and  sits  as  judge  of  life  and  death  upon  every 
author  that  appears  in  public.  It  is  impossible  to  represent 
the  pangs,  agonies,  and  convulsions,  which  Sir  Timothy 
expresses  in  every  feature  of  his  face,  and  muscle  of  his  body, 
upon  the  reading  of  a  bad  poet. 

About  a  week  ago,  I  was  engaged,  at  a  friend's  house  of 
mine,  in  an  agreeable  conversation  with  his  wife  and  daughters, 
when,  in  the  height  of  our  mirth,  Sir  Timothy,  who  makes 
love  to  my  friend's  eldest  daughter,  came  in  amongst  us, 
puffing  and  blowing  as  if  he  had  been  very  much  out  of  breath. 
He  immediately  called  for  a  chair,  and  desired  leave  to  sit 
down  without  any  further  ceremony.  I  asked  him,  where  he 
had  been  ?  whether  he  was  out  of  order  ?  he  only  replied,  that 
he  was  quite  spent,  and  fell  a  cursing  in  soliloquy.     I  could 

hear  him  cry,  "  A  wicked  rogue An  execrable  wretch 

Was  there  ever  such  a  monster  !  " The  young  ladies  upon 

this  began  to  be  affi'ighted,  and  asked,  whether  any  one  had 
hurt  him  ?  he  answered  nothing,  but  still  talked  to  himself. 
"  To  lay  the  first  scene,"  says  he,  "  in  St.  James's-Park,  and  the 
last  in  Northamptonshire  !  "  ''  Is  that  all  ?  "  said  I.  "  Then  I 
suppose  you  have  been  at  the  rehearsal  of  a  play  this  morning." 
"  Been  !  "  says  he,  "  I  have  been  at  Northampton,  in  the  Park, 
in  a  lady's  bed-chamber,  in  a  dining-room,  every  where  ;  the 


308  THE    TATLER.  [No.  165. 

rogue  has  led  me  such  a  dance "  Though  I  could  scarce 

forbear  laughing  at  his  discourse,  I  told  him  I  was  glad  it 
was  no  worse,  and  that  he  was  only  metaphorically  weary.  "  In 
short,  sir,"  says  he,  ''  the  author  has  not  observed  a  single 
Unity  in  his  whole  play  ;  the  scene  shifts  in  every  dialogue  ; 
the  villain  has  hurried  me  up  and  down  at  such  a  rate,  that  I 
am  tired  off  my  legs."  I  could  not  but  observe  with  some 
pleasure,  that  the  young  lady  whom  he  made  love  to,  conceived 
a  very  just  aversion  towards  him,  upon  seeing  him  so  very 
passionate  in  trifles.  And  as  she  had  that  natural  sense,  which 
makes  her  a  better  judge  than  a  thousand  critics,  she  began  to 
rally  him  upon  his  foolish  humour.  "  For  my  part,"  says  she, 
"  I  never  knew  a  play  take  that  was  written  up  to  your  rules,  as 
you  call  them."  "  How,  madam  !  "  says  he,  "  is  that  your 
opinion  ?  I  am  sure  you  have  a  better  taste."  "  It  is  a  pretty 
kind  of  magic,"  says  she,  "  the  poets  have,  to  transport  an 
audience  from  place  to  place  without  the  help  of  a  coach  and 
horses  ;  I  could  travel  round  the  world  at  such  a  rate.  It  is 
such  an  entertainment  as  an  enchantress  finds  when  she  fancies 
herself  in  a  wood,  or  upon  a  mountain,  at  a  feast,  or  a 
solemnity  ;  though  at  the  same  time  she  has  never  stirred  out 
of  her  cottage."  "  Your  simile,  madam,"  says  Sir  Timothy,  "is 
by  no  means  just."  "  Pray,"  says  she,  "  let  my  similes  pass  with- 
out a  criticism.  I  must  confess,"  continued  she,  (for  I  found 
she  was  resolved  to  exasperate  him)  "  I  laughed  very  heartily 
at  the  last  new  comedy  which  you  found  so  much  fault  with." 
"  But,  madam,"  says  he,  '-'you  ought  not  to  have  laughed  ;  and 
,  I  defy  any  one  to  shew  me  a  single  rule  that  you  could  laugh 
(  by."  "  Ought  not  to  laugh  !  "  says  she  ;  "  pray  who  should 
^  hinder  me?"  "Madam,"  says  he,  "  there  are  such  people  in 
the  world  as  Rapin,  Dacier,  and  several  others,  that  ought  to 
have  spoiled  your  mirth."  "  I  have  heard,"  says  the  young 
lad}^,  "  that  your  great  critics  are  always  very  bad  poets  ;  I 
fancy  there  is  as  much  difference  between  the  works  of  the  one 
and  the  other,  as  there  is  between  the  carriage  of  a  dancing- 
master  and  a  gentleman.  I  must  confess,"  continued  she,  "  I 
would  not  be  troubled  with  so  fine  a  judgment  as  yours  is  ;  for 


Xo.  ISl.]  Ix\    MEMORIAM.  309 

I  find  you  feel  more  yexation  in  a  bad  comedy,  than  I  do  in  a 
deep  tragedy."  *'  Madam,"  says  Sir  Timothy,  "  that  is  not 
my  fault ;  they  should  learn  the  art  of  writinof."  "  For  my 
part,"  says  the  young  lady,  "  I  should  think  the  greatest 
art  in  your  writers  of  comedies  is  to  please."  ''  To  please  I  " 
says  Sir  Timothy  ;  and  immediately  fell  a-laughing.  *'  Truly," 
says  she,  "  that  is  my  opinion."  Upon  this,  he  composed  his 
countenance,  looked  upon  his  watch,  and  took  his  leave. 

I  hear  that  Sir  Timothy  has  not  been  at  my  friend's  house 
since  this  notable  conference,  to  the  great  satisfaction  of  the 
young  lady,  who  by  this  means  has  got  rid  of  a  very  imperti- 
nent fop. 


IN  MEMORIAM. 

Ko.  181.    TUESDAY,  June  6,  1710.     [Steele.] 

Dies,  ni  fallor,  adest,  quern  semper  acerbum, 


Semper  honoratum,  sic  dii  voluistis  habebo. 

YiRG.  ^n.  V.  49. 

And  now  the  rising  day  renews  the  year, 
A  day  for  ever  sad,  for  ever  dear. 

There  are  those  among  mankind,  who  can  enjoy  no  relish 
of  their  being,  except  the  world  is  made  acquainted  with 
all  that  relates  to  them,  and  think  every  thing  lost  that 
passes  unobserved  ;  but  others  find  a  solid  delight  in  stealing 
by  the  crowd,  and  modelling  their  life  after  such  a  manner,  as 
is  as  much  above  the  ap^Drobation  as  the  practice  of  the  vulgar. 
Life  being  too  short  to  give  instances  great  enough  of  true 
friendship  or  good  will,  some  sages  have  thought  it  pious  to 
preserve  a  certain  reverence  for  the  Manes  of  their  deceased 
friends  ;  and  have  withdrawn  themselves  from  the  rest  of  the 
world  at  certain  seasons,  to  commemorate  in  their  own  tlioughts 
such  of  their  acquaintance  who  have  gone  before  them  out  of 
this  life.  And  indeed,  when  we  are  advanced  in  years,  there  is 
not   a  more   pleasing   entertainment,  than  to   recollect  in   a 


310  THE    TATLER.  [No.  181. 

gloomy  moment  the  many  we  have  parted  with,  that  have  been 
dear  and  agreeable  to  us,  and  to  cast  a  melancholy  thought  or 
two  after  those,  with  whom,  perhaps,  we  have  indulged  our- 
selves in  whole  nights  of  mirth  and  jollity.  With  such  in- 
clinations in  my  heart  I  went  to  my  closet  yesterday  in  the 
evening,  and  resolved  to  be  sorrowful  ;  upon  which  occasion  I 
could  not  but  look  with  disdain  upon  myself,  that  though  all 
the  reasons  which  I  had  to  lament  the  loss  of  many  of  my 
friends  are  now  as  forcible  as  at  the  moment  of  their  departure, 
yet  did  not  my  heart  swell  with  the  same  sorrow  which  I  felt 
at  that  time  ;  but  I  could,  without  tears,  reflect  upon  many 
pleasing  adventures  I  have  had  with  some,  who  have  long  been 
blended  with  common  earth. 

Though  it  is  by  the  benefit  of  nature,  that  length  of  time  thus 
blots  out  the  violence  of  afflictions  ;  yet  with  tempers  too  much 
given  to  pleasure,  it  is  almost  necessary  to  revive  the  old  places 
of  grief  in  our  memory  ;  and  ponder  step  by  step  on  past  life,  to 
lead  the  mind  into  that  sobriety  of  thought  which  poises  thelieart, 
and  makes  it  beat  with  due  time,  without  being  quickened  with 
desire,  or  retarded  with  despair,  from  its  proper  and  equal 
motion.  When  we  wind  up  a  clock  that  is  out  of  order,  to 
make  it  go  well  for  the  future,  we  do  not  immediately  set  the 
hand  to  the  present  instant,  but  we  make  it  strike  the  round  of 
all  its  hours,  before  it  can  recover  the  regularity  of  its  time. 
Such,  thought  I,  shall  be  my  method  this  evening  ;  and  since 
it  is  that  day  of  the  year  which  I  dedicate  to  the  memory  of 
such  in  another  life  as  I  much  delighted  in  when  living,  an 
hour  or  two  shall  be  sacred  to  sorrow  and  their  memory,  while 
I  run  over  all  the  melancholy  circumstances  of  this  kind  which 
have  occurred  to  me  in  my  whole  life.  The  first  sense  of 
sorrow  I  ever  knew  was  upon  the  death  of  my  father  at  which 
time  I  was  not  quite  five  years  of  age  ;  but  was  rather  amazed 
at  what  all  the  house  meant,  than  possessed  with  a  real  under- 
standing why  nobody  was  willing  to  play  with  me.  I  remember 
I  went  into  the  room  where  his  body  lay,  and  my  mother  sat 
weeping  alone  by  it.  I  had  my  battledore  in  my  hand,  and 
fell  a-beating  the  cofiin,  and  calling  papa  ;  for,  I  know  not 


No.  181.]  IN    MEMORIAM.  311 

how,  I  had  some  slight  idea  that  he  was  locked  up  there.  My 
mother  catched  me  in  her  arms,  and,  transported  beyond  all 
patience  of  the  silent  grief  she  was  before  in,  she  almost 
smothered  me  in  her  embraces  ;  and  told  me,  in  a  flood  of 
tears,  "  Papa  could  not  hear  me,  and  would  play  with  me  no 
more,  for  they  were  going  to  put  him  under  ground,  whence 
he  could  never  come  to  us  again."  She  was  a  very  beautiful 
woman,  of  a  noble  spirit,  and  there  was  a  dignity  in  her  grief 
amidst  all  the  wildness  of  her  transport,  which,  methought, 
struck  me  with  an  instinct  of  sorrow,  that,  before  I  was 
sensible  of  what  it  was  to  grieve,  seized  my  very  soul,  and  has 
made  pity  the  weakness  of  my  heart  ever  since.  The  mind  in 
infancy  is,  methinks,  like  the  body  in  embryo,  and  receives 
impressions  so  forcible,  that  they  are  as  hard  to  be  removed  by 
reason,  as  any  mark,  with  which  a  child  is  bom,  is  to  be  taken 
away  by  any  future  application.  Hence  it  is,  that  good-nature 
in  me  is  no  merit ;  but  having  been  so  frequently  over- 
whelmed with  her  tears  before  I  knew  the  cause  of  any  affliction, 
or  could  draw  defences  fi'om  my  own  judgment.  I  imbibed 
commiseration,  remorse,  and  an  unmanly  gentleness  of  mind, 
which  has  since  insnared  me  into  ten  thousand  calamities  ; 
from  whence  I  can  reap  no  advantage,  except  it  be,  that,  in 
such  a  humour  as  I  am  now  in,  I  can  the  better  indulge  my- 
self in  the  softnesses  of  humanity,  and  enjoy  that  sweet 
anxiety  which  arises  from  the  memory  of  past  afflictions. 

We,  that  are  very  old,  are  better  able  to  remember  things 
which  befel  us  in  our  distant  youth,  than  the  passages  of  later 
days.  For  this  reason  it  is,  that  the  companions  of  my  strong 
and  vigorous  years  present  themselves  more  immediately  to  me 
in  this  office  of  sorrow.  Untimely  and  unhappy  deaths  are 
what  we  are  most  apt  to  lament  ;  so  little  are  we  able  to  make 
it  indifferent  when  a  thing  happens,  though  we  know  it  must 
happen.  Thus  we  gToan  under  life,  and  bewail  those  who  are 
relieved  from  it.  Every  object  that  returns  to  our  imagination 
raises  different  passions,  according  to  the  circumstances  of 
their  departure.  Who  can  have  lived  in  an  army,  and  in  a 
serious  hour  reflect  upon  the  many  gay  and  agreeable  men  that 


312  THE    TATLER.  [No.  181. 

might  long  have  flourished  in  the  arts  of  peace,  and  not  join 
with  the  imprecations  of  the  fatherless  and  widow  on  the 
tyrant  to  whose  ambition  they  fell  sacrifices  ?  But  gallant  men, 
who  are  cut  off  by  the  sword,  move  rather  our  veneration  than 
our  pity ;  and  we  gather  relief  enough  from  their  own  con- 
tempt of  death,  to  make  that  no  evil,  which  was  approached 
with  so  much  cheerfulness,  and  attended  with  so  much  honour. 
But  when  we  turn  our  thoughts  from  the  great  parts  of  life  on 
such  occasions,  and  instead  of  lamenting  those  who  stood  ready 
to  give  death  to  those  from  whom  they  had  the  fortune  to 
receive  it ;  I  say,  when  we  let  our  thoughts  wander  from  such 
noble  objects,  and  consider  the  havock  which  is  made  among 
the  tender  and  the  innocent,  pity  enters  with  an  unmixed  soft- 
ness, and  possesses  all  our  souls  at  once. 

Here  (were  their  words  to  express  such  sentiments  with 
proper  tenderness)  I  should  record  the  beauty,  innocence  and 
untimely  death,  of  the  first  object  my  eyes  ever  beheld  with 
love.  The  beauteous  virgin  !  how  ignorantly  did  she  charm, 
how  carelessly  excel  !  Oh  Death  !  thou  hast  right  to  the  bold, 
to  the  ambitious,  to  the  high,  and  to  the  haughty  ;  but  why 
this  cruelty  to  the  humble,  to  the  meek,  to  the  undiscerning, 
to  the  thoughtless  ?  Nor  age,  nor  business,  nor  distress,  can 
erase  the  dear  image  from  my  imagination.  In  the  same 
week,  I  saw  her  dressed  for  a  ball,  and  in  a  shroud.  How  ill 
did  the  habit  of  death  become  the  pretty  trifler  ?  I  still  behold 

the  smiling  earth A  large  train  of  disasters  were  coming 

on  to  my  memory,  when  my  servant  knocked  at  my  closet-door, 
and  interrupted  me  with  a  letter,  attended  with  a  hamper  of 
wine,  of  the  same  sort  with  that  which  is  to  be  put  to  sale, 
on  Thursday  next,  at  Garraway's  coffee-house.  Upon  the 
receipt  of  it,  I  sent  for  three  of  my  friends.  AVe  are  so  inti- 
mate, that  we  can  be  company  in  whatever  state  of  mind  we 
meet,  and  can  entertain  each  other  without  expecting  always  to 
rejoice.  The  wine  we  found  to  be  generous  and  warming,  but 
with  such  an  heat  as  moved  us  rather  to  be  cheerful  than 
frolicksome.  It  revived  the  spirits,  without  firing  the  blood. 
We  commended  it  until  two  of  the  clock  this  morning ;  and 


No.  192.]  CONSTAXCr.  313 

having  to-day  met  a  little  before  dinner,  we  found,  that  though 
we  drank  two  bottles  a  man,  we  had  much  more  reason  to 
recollect  than  forget  what  had  passed  the  night  before. 


CONSTANCY. 

No.  192.    SATURDAY,  Jjjly  1,  1710.     [Addison.] 

Tecum  vivere  arnem,  tecum  obeam  libens. 

HoR.  3  Od.  ii. 

Gladly  I 


With  thee  would  live,  with  thee  would  die. 

Some  years  since  I  was  engaged  with  a  coachful  of  friends  to 
take  a  journey  as  far  as  the  Land's  End.  We  were  very  well 
pleased  with  one  another  the  first  day  ;  every  one  endeavouring 
to  recommend  himself  by  his  good  humour,  and  complaisance 
to  the  rest  of  the  company.  This  good  correspondence  did  not 
last  long  ;  one  of  our  party  was  soured  the  very  first  evening 
by  a  plate  of  butter,  which  had  not  been  melted  to  his  mind, 
and  which  spoiled  his  temper  to  such  a  degree,  that  he  con- 
tinued upon  the  fret  to  the  end  of  our  journey.  A  second  fell 
ofi  from  his  good  humour  the  next  morning,  for  no  other 
reason,  that  I  could  imagine,  but  because  I  chanced  to  step 
into  the  coach  before  him,  and  place  myself  on  the  shady  side. 
This,  however,  was  but  my  own  private  guess ;  for  he  did  not 
mention  a  word  of  it,  nor  indeed  of  anything  else,  for^  three 
days  following.  The  rest  of  our  company  held  out  very  near 
half  the  way,  when  on  a  sudden  Mr.  Sprightly  fell  asleep  ;  and 
instead  of  endeavouring  to  divert  and  oblige  us,  as  he  had 
hitherto  done,  carried  himself  with  an  unconcerned,  careless, 
drowsy  behaviour,  until  we  came  to  our  last  stage.  There  were 
three  of  us  who  still  held  up  our  heads,  and  did  aU  we  could  to 
make  our  journey  agreeable  ;  but,  to  my  shame  be  it  spoken, 
about  three  miles  on  this  side  Exeter,  I  was  taken  with  an 
unaccountable  fit  of  suUenness,  that  hung  upon  me  for  above 

Y  2 


314  THE    TATLER.  [No.  192. 

threescore  miles  ;  whether  it  were  for  want  of  respect,  or  from 
an  accidental  tread  upon  my  foot,  or  from  a  foolish  maid's 
calling  me  "The  old  gentleman,"  I  cannot  tell.  In  short, 
there  was  but  one  who  kept  his  good  humour  to  the  Land's 
End. 

There  was  another  coach  that  went  along  with  us,  in  which 
I  likewise  observed,  that  there  were  many  secret  jealousies, 
heart-burnings,  and  animosities  :  for  when  we  joined  com- 
panies at  night,  I  could  not  but  take  notice  that  the  passengers 
neglected  their  own  company,  and  studied  how  to  make  them- 
selves esteemed  by  us,  who  were  altogether  strangers  to  them  ; 
until  at  length  they  grew  so  well  acquainted  with  us,  that  they 
liked  us  as  little  as  they  did  one  another.  When  I  reflect  upon 
this  jom-ney,  I  often  fancy  it  to  be  a  picture  of  human  life,  in 
respect  to  the  several  friendships,  contracts,  and  alliances,  that 
are  made  and  dissolved  in  the  several  periods  of  it.  The  most 
delightful  and  most  lasting  engagements  are  generally  those 
which  pass  between  man  and  woman  ;  and  yet  upon  what 
trifles  are  they  weakened,  or  entirely  broken  !  Sometimes  the 
parties  fly  asunder  even  in  the  midst  of  courtship,  and  some- 
times grow  cool  in  the  very  honey-month.  Some  separate 
before  the  first  child,  and  some  after  the  fifth  ;  others  continue 
good  until  thirty,  others  until  forty  ;  while  some  few,  whose 
souls  are  of  an  happier  make,  and  better  fitted  to  one  another, 
travel  on  together  to  the  end  of  their  journey  in  a  continual 
intercourse  of  kind  offices,  and  mutual  endearments. 

When  we  therefore  choose  our  companions  for  life,  if  we 
hope  to  keep  both  them  and  ourselves  in  good  humour  to  the 
last  stage  of  it,  we  must  be  extremely  careful  in  the  choice  we 
make,  as  well  as  in  the  conduct  on  our  own  part.  When  the 
persons  to  whom  we  join  ourselves  can  stand  an  examination, 
and  bear  the  scrutiny  ;  when  they  mend  upon  our  acquaintance 
with  them,  and  discover  new  beauties,  the  more  we  search  into 
their  characters  ;  our  love  will  naturally  rise  in  proportion  to 
their  perfections. 

But  because  there  are  very  few  possessed  of  such  accomplish- 
ments of  body  and  mind,  we  ought  to  look  after  those  quahfi- 


No.  192.]  CONSTANCY.  315 

cations  both  in  ourselves  and  others,  which  are  indispensably 
necessary  towards  this  happy  union,  and  which  are  in  the  power 
of  every  one  to  acquire,  or  at  least  to  cultivate  and  improve. 
These,  in  my  opinion,  are  cheerfulness  and  constancy.  A 
cheerful  temper  joined  with  innocence  will  make  beauty  attrac- 
tive, knowledge  delightful,  and  wit  good-natured.  It  will 
lighten  sickness,  poverty,  and  affliction  ;  convert  ignorance 
into  an  amiable  simplicity  ;  and  render  deformity  itself 
agreeable. 

Constancy  is  natural  to  persons  of  even  tempers  and  uniform 
dispositions  ;  and  may  be  acquired  by  those  of  the  greatest 
fickleness,  violence,  and  passion,  who  consider  seriously  the 
terms  of  union  upon  which  they  come  together,  the  mutual 
interest  in  which  they  are  engaged,  with  all  the  motives  that 
ought  to  incite  their  tenderness  and  compassion  towards  those, 
who  have  their  dependence  upon  them,  and  are  embarked  with 
them  for  life  in  the  same  state  of  happiness  or  misery. 
Constancy,  when  it  grows  in  the  mind  upon  considerations  of 
this  nature,  becomes  a  moral  virtue,  and  a  kind  of  good- 
nature, that  is  not  subject  to  any  change  of  health,  age,  fortune, 
or  any  of  those  accidents,  which  are  apt  to  unsettle  the  best 
dispositions  that  are  founded  rather  in  constitution  than  in 
reason.  Where  such  a  constancy  as  this  is  wanting,  the  most 
inflamed  passion  may  fall  away  into  coldness  and  indifference, 
and  the  most  melting  tenderness  degenerate  into  hatred  and 
aversion.  I  shall  conclude  this  paper  with  a  story,  that  is  very 
well  known  in  the  North  of  England. 

About  thirty  years  ago,  a  packet-boat  that  had  several 
passengers  on  board  was  cast  away  upon  a  rock,  and  in  so  great 
danger  of  sinking,  that  all  who  were  in  it  endeavoured  to  save 
themselves  as  well  as  they  could  ;  though  only  those  who  could 
swim  well  had  a  bare  possibility  of  doing  it.  Among  the 
passengers  there  were  two  w^omen  of  fashion,  who,  seeing 
themselves  in  such  a  disconsolate  condition,  begged  of  their 
husbands  not  to  leave  them.  One  of  them  chose  rather  to  die 
with  his  wife,  than  to  forsake  her  ;  the  other,  though  he  was 
moved  with  the  utmost  compassion  for  his  wife,  told  her,  "  that 


316  THE    TATLER.  [No.  196. 

for  the  good  of  their  children,  it  was  better  one  of  them  should 
live  than  both  perish."  By  a  great  piece  of  good  luck,  next  to 
a  miracle,  when  one  of  our  good  men  had  taken  the  last  and 
long  farewell  in  order  to  save  himself,  and  the  other  held  in  his 
arms  the  person  that  was  dearer  to  him  than  life,  the  ship  was 
preserved.  It  is  with  a  secret  sorrow  and  vexation  of  mind 
that  I  must  tell  the  sequel  of  the  story,  and  let  my  reader 
know,  that  this  faithful  pair  who  were  ready  to  have  died  in 
each  other's  arms,  about  three  years  after  their  escape,  upon 
some  trifling  disgust  grew  to  a  coldness  at  first,  and  at  length 
fell  out  to  such  a  degree,  that  they  left  one  another,  and  parted 
for  ever.  The  other  couple  Hved  together  in  an  uninterrupted 
friendship  and  felicity  ;  and  what  was  remarkable,  the  husband, 
whom  the  shipwreck  had  like  to  have  separated  from  his  wife, 
died  a  few  months  after  her,  not  being  able  to  survive  the  loss 
of  her. 

I  must  confess,  there  is  something  in  the  changeableness 
and  inconstancy  of  human  nature,  that  very  often  both  dejects 
and  terrifies  me.  Whatever  I  am  at  present,  I  tremble  to 
think  what  I  may  be.  While  I  find  this  principle  in  me,  how 
can  I  assure  myself  that  I  shall  be  always  true  to  my  God,  my 
friend,  or  myself?  In  short,  without  constancy  there  is  neither 
love,  friendship,  nor  virtue,  in  the  world. 


PATRON  AND  CLIENT. 

No.  196.     TUESDAY,  July  11,  1710.    [Steele.] 

Dulcis  inexperto  cultura  potentis  amici, 
Expertus  metuit. HoR,  1  Ep.  xviii.  86. 

Untry'd,  liow  sweet  a  court  attendance  ! 
When  try'd,  how  dreadful  the  dependence  ! 

The  intended  course  of  my  studies  was  altered  this  evening 
by  a  visit  from  an  old  acquaintance,  who  complained  to  me, 
mentioning  one  upon  whom  he  had  long  depended,   that  he 


No.  196.]  PATRON    AND    CLIENT.  317 

found  his  labour  and  perseverance  in  his  patron's  service  and 
interests  wholly  ineffectual  ;  and  he  thought  now,  after  his  best 
years  were  spent  in  a  professed  adherence  to  him  and  his 
fortunes,  he  should  in  the  end  be  forced  to  break  with  him,  and 
give  over  all  farther  expectations  from  him.  He  sighed,  and 
ended  his  discourse,  by  saying,  "  You,  Mr.  Censor,  some  time 
ago,  gave  us  your  thoughts  of  the  behaviour  of  great  men  to 
their  creditors.  This  sort  of  demand  upon  them,  for  what  they 
invite  men  to  expect,  is  a  debt  of  honour  :  which,  according  to 
custom,  they  ought  to  be  most  careful  of  paying,  and  would  be 
a  worthy  subject  for  a  Lucubration." 

Of  all  men  living,  I  think,  I  am  the  most  proper  to  treat  of 
this  matter  ;  because,  in  the  character  and  employment  of  the 
Censor,  I  have  had  encouragement  so  infinitely  above  my  desert, 
that  what  I  say  cannot  possibly  be  supposed  to  arise  from 
peevishness,  or  any  disappointment  in  that  kind,  which  I  myself 
have  met  with.  When  we  consider  Patrons  and  their  Clients, 
those  who  receive  addresses,  and  those  who  are  addressed  to,  it 
must  not  be  understood  that  the  dependents  are  such  as  are 
worthless  in  their  natures,  abandoned  to  any  vice  or  dishonour, 
or  such  as  without  a  call  thrust  themselves  upon  men  in  power  ; 
nor  when  we  say  Patrons,  do  we  mean  such  as  have  it  not  in 
their  power,  or  have  no  obligation,  to  assist  their  friends  ;  but 
we  speak  of  such  leagues  where  there  are  power  and  obligation 
on  the  one  part,  and  merit  and  expectation  on  the  other. 
TTere  we  to  be  very  particular  on  this  subject,  I  take  it,  that 
the  division  of  Patron  and  Client  may  include  a  third  part  of  our 
nation.  The  want  of  merit  and  real  worth  will  strike  out 
about  ninety-nine  in  the  hundred  of  these  ;  and  want  of  ability 
in  the  Patron  will  dispose  of  as  many  of  that  order.  He,  who 
out  of  mere  vanity  to  be  applied  to,  will  take  up  another's  time 
and  fortune  in  his  service,  where  he  has  no  prospect  of  returning 
it,  is  as  much  more  unjust,  as  those  who  took  up  my  friend  the 
Upholders  goods  without  paying  him  for  them  ;  I  say,  he  is 
as  much  more  unjust,  as  our  life  and  time  is  more  valuable 
than  our  goods  and  movables.  Among  many  whom  you  see 
about  the  great,  there  is  a  contented  well-pleased  set,  who  seem 


318  THE    TATLER.  [No.  196. 

to  like  the  attendance  for  its  own  sake,  and  are  early  at  the 
abodes  of  the  powerful,  out  of  mere  fashion.  This  sort  of 
vanity  is  as  well  grounded,  as  if  a  man  should  lay  aside  his 
own  plain  suit,  and  dress  himself  up  in  a  gay  livery  of 
another. 

There  are  many  of  this  species  who  exclude  others  of  just 
expectations,  and  make  those  proper  dependents  appear  im- 
patient, because  they  are  not  so  cheerful  as  those  who  expect 
nothing.  I  have  made  use  of  the  penny-post  for  the  instruc- 
tion of  these  voluntary  slaves,  and  informed  them,  that  they 
will  never  be  provided  for ;  but  they  double  their  diligence 
upon  admonition.  Will  Afterday  has  told  his  friends,  that  he 
was  to  have  the  next  thing,  these  ten  years  ;  and  Harry 
Linger  has  been  fourteen,  within  a  month,  of  a  considerable 
office.  However  the  fantastic  complaisance  which  is  paid  to 
them,  may  blind  the  great  from  seeing  themselves  in  a  just 
light  ;  they  must  needs,  if  they  in  the  least  reflect,  at  some 
times,  have  a  sense  of  the  injustice  they  do  in  raising  in  others 
a  false  expectation.  But  this  is  so  common  a  practice  in  all 
the  stages  of  power,  that  there  are  not  more  cripples  come  out 
of  the  wars,  than  from  the  attendance  of  Patrons.  You  see  in 
one  a  settled  melancholy,  in  another  a  bridled  rage  ;  a  third 
has  lost  his  memory,  and  a  fourth  his  whole  constitution  and 
humour.  In  a  word,  when  you  see  a  particular  cast  of  mind  or 
body,  which  looks  a  little  upon  the  distracted,  you  may  be  sure 
the  poor  gentleman  has  formerly  had  great  friends.  For  this 
reason,  I  have  thought  it  a  prudent  thing  to  take  a  nephew  of 
mine  out  of  a  lady's  service,  where  he  was  a  page,  and  have 
bound  him  to  a  shoe-maker. 

But  what,  of  all  the  humours  under  the  sun,  is  the  most 
pleasant  to  consider  is,  that  you  see  some  men  lay,  as  it  were, 
a  set  of  acquaintance  by  them,  to  converse  with  when  they  are 
out  of  employment,  who  had  no  effect  of  their  power  when  they 
were  in.  Here  Patrons  and  Clients  both  make  the  most  fantas- 
tical figure  imaginable.  Friendship  indeed  is  most  manifested 
in  adversity  ;  but  I  do  not  know  how  to  behave  myself  to  a 
man,  who  thinks  me  his  friend  at  no  other  time  but  that. 


No.  196.]  PATRON    AND    CLIENT.  319 

Dick  Reptile  of  our  club  had  this  in  his  head  the  other  night, 
when  he  said,  "  I  am  afraid  of  ill  news,  when  I  am  visited  by 
any  of  my  old  friends."  These  Patrons  are  a  little  like 
some  fine  gentlemen,  who  spend  all  their  hours  of  gaiety 
with  their  wenches,  but  when  they  fall  sick  will  let  no  one 
come  near  them  but  their  wives.  It  seems,  truth  and 
honour  are  companions  too  sober  for  prosperity.  It  is  certainly 
the  most  black  ingratitude,  to  accept  of  a  man's  best  endea- 
vours to  be  pleasing  to  you,  and  return  it  with  indifference. 

I  am  so  much  of  this  mind,  that  Dick  Eastcourt  the  comedian, 
for  coming  one  night  to  our  club,  though  he  laughed  at  us  all 
the  time  he  was  there,  shall  have  our  company  at  his  play  on 
Thursday.  A  man  of  talents  is  to  be  favoured,  or  never 
admitted.  Let  the  ordinary  world  truck  for  money  and  wares ; 
but  men  of  spirit  and  conversation  should  in  every  kind  do 
others  as  much  pleasure  as  they  receive  from  them.  But  men 
are  so  taken  up  with  outward  forms,  that  they  do  not  consider 
their  actions  ;  else  how  should  it  be,  that  a  man  should  deny 
that  to  the  entreaties,  and  almost  tears  of  an  old  friend,  which 
he  shall  solicit  a  new  one  to  accept  of  ?  I  remember  when  I 
first  came  out  of  Stafibrdshire,  I  had  an  intimacy  with  a  man 
of  quality,  in  whose  gift  there  fell  a  very  good  employment. 
All  the  town  cried,  "  There's  a  thing  for  Mr.  Bickerstaff  ! " 
when,  to  my  great  astonishment,  I  found  my  Patron  had  been 
forced  upon  twenty  artifices  to  surprise  a  man  with  it,  who 
never  thought  of  it :  but  sure,  it  is  a  degree  of  murder  to  amuse 
men  with  vain  hopes.  If  a  man  takes  away  another's  life, 
where  is  the  difference,  whether  he  does  it  by  taking  away  the 
minutes  of  his  time,  or  the  drops  of  his  blood  ?  But  indeed, 
such  as  have  hearts  barren  of  kindness  are  served  accordingly 
by  those  whom  they  employ  ;  and  pass  their  lives  away  with 
an  empty  show  of  civility  for  love,  and  an  insipid  intercourse 
of  a  commerce  in  which  their  affections  are  no  way  concerned. 
But,  on  the  other  side,  how  beautiful  is  the  life  of  a  Patron 
who  performs  his  duty  to  his  inferiors  ?  A  worthy  merchant, 
who  employs  a  crowd  of  artificers  ?  A  great  lord,  wiio  is 
Gfenerous  and  merciful  to  the  several  necessities  of  his  tenants  ? 


320  THE    TATLER.  [No.  198. 

A  courtier,  who  uses  his  credit  and  power  for  the  welfare  of  his 
friends  ?  These  have  in  their  several  stations  a  quick  relish  of 
the  exquisite  pleasure  of  doing  good.  In  a  word,  good  Patrons 
are  like  the  Guardian  Aiigels  of  Plato,  who  are  ever  busy,  though 
unseen,  in  the  care  of  their  wards  ;  but  ill  Patrons  are  like  the 
Deities  of  Epicurus,  supine,  indolent,  and  unconcerned,  though 
they  see  mortals  in  storms  and  tempests,  even  while  they  are 
offering  incense  to  their  power. 


THE  HISTOKY  OF  O^LIA. 

No.  198.       SATURDAY,  July  15,  1710.     [Steele.] 

Quale  sit  id  quod  ainas  celeri  circumspice  mente, 
Et  tua  laisuro  substrahe  colla  jugo. 

Ovid.  Rem.  Amor.  i.  89. 

On  your  cboice  deliberate,  nor  rashly  yield 
A  willing  neck  to  Hymen's  galling  yoke. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  look  back  into  the  first  years  of  this 
young  lady,  whose  story  is  of  consequence  only  as  her  life  has 
lately  met  with  passages  very  uncommon.  She  is  now  in  the 
twentieth  year  of  her  age,  and  owes  a  strict,  but  cheerful 
education,  to  the  care  of  an  aunt ;  to  whom  she  was  recom- 
mended by  her  dying  father,  whose  decease  was  hastened  by 
an  inconsolable  affliction  for  the  loss  of  her  mother. 

As  Cselia  is  the  offspring  of  the  most  generous  passion  that 
has  been  known  in  our  age,  she  is  adorned  with  as  much  beauty 
and  grace  as  the  most  celebrated  of  her  sex  possess  ;  but  her 
domestic  life,  moderate  fortune,  and  religious  education,  gave 
her  but  little  opportunity,  and  less  inclination,  to  be  admired 
in  public  assemblies.  Her  abode  has  been  for  some  years  at  a 
convenient  distance  from  the  cathedral  of  St.  Paul's,  where  her 
aunt  and  she  chose  to  reside  for  the  advantage  of  that  rapturous 
way  of  devotion,  which  gives  ecstasy  to  the  pleasures  of  inno- 
cence, and,  in  some  measure,  is  the  immediate  possession  of 
those  heavenly  enjoyments  for  which  they  are  addressed. 


No.  198.]  THE    HISTORY    OP    C^LIA.  321 

As  you  may  trace  the  usual  thoughts  of  men  in  their 
countenances,  there  appeared  in  the  face  of  Caha  a  cheerfulness, 
the  constant  companion  of  unaffected  virtue,  and  a  gladness, 
which  is  as  inseparable  from  true  piety.  Her  every  look  and 
motion  spoke  the  peaceful,  mild,  resigning,  humble  inhabitant, 
that  animated  her  beauteous  body.  Her  air  discovered  her 
body  a  mere  machine  of  her  mind,  and  not  that  her  thoughts 
were  employed  in  studying  graces  and  attractions  for  her 
person.  Such  was  Cselia,  when  she  was  first  seen  by  Pala- 
mede  at  her  usual  place  of  worship.  Palamede  is  a  young  man 
of  two-and-twenty,  well-fashioned,  learned,  genteel  and  dis- 
creet ;  the  son  and  heir  of  a  gentleman  of  a  veiy  great  estate, 
and  himself  possessed  of  a  plentiful  one  by  the  gift  of  an  uncle. 
He  became  enamoured  with  Cfelia  ;  and  after  having  learned 
her  habitation  had  address  enough  to  communicate  his  passion 
and  circumstances  with  such  an  air  of  good  sense  and  integrity, 
as  soon  obtained  permission  to  visit  and  profess  his  incli- 
nations towards  her.  Palamede's  present  fortune  and  future 
expectations  were  no  way  prejudicial  to  his  addresses  ;  but 
after  the  lovers  had  passed  some  time  in  the  agreeable  enter- 
tainments of  a  successful  courtship,  Cselia  one  day  took 
occasion  to  interrupt  Palamede,  in  the  midst  of  a  very  pleasing 
discourse  of  the  happiness  he  promised  himself  in  so  accom- 
plished a  companion  ;  and,  assuming  a  serious  air,  told  him, 
there  was  another  heart  to  be  won  before  he  gained  hers,  which 
was  that  of  his  father.  Palamede  seemed  much  disturbed  at 
the  overture  ;  and  lamented  to  her,  that  his  father  was  one  of 
those  too  provident  parents,  who  only  place  their  thoughts 
upon  bringing  riches  into  their  families  by  marriages,  and  are 
wholly  insensible  of  all  other  considerations.  But  the  strict- 
ness of  Cselia's  rules  of  life  made  her  insist  upon  this  demand  ; 
and  the  son,  at  a  proper  hour,  communicated  to  his  father  the 
circumstances  of  his  love,  and  the  merit  of  tlie  object.  The 
next  day  the  father  made  her  a  visit.  The  beauty  of  her 
person,  the  fame  of  her  virtue,  and  a  certain  irresistible  charm 
in  her  whole  behaviour,  on  so  tender  and  delicate  an  occasion, 
wrought  so  much  upon  him,  in  spite  of  all  prepossessions,  that 


322  THE    TATLER.  [No.  198. 

he  hastened  the  marriage  with  an  impatience  equal  to  that  of 
his  son.  Their  nuptials  were  celebrated  with  a  privacy  suit- 
able to  the  character  and  modesty  of  Cselia  ;  and  from  that 
day  until  a  fatal  one  last  iveek,  they  lived  together  with  all  the 
joy  and  happiness  which  attend  minds  entirely  united. 

It  should  have  been  intimated,  that  Palamedeis  a  student  of 
the  Temple,  and  usually  retired  thither  early  in  the  morning  ; 
Cselia  still  sleeping. 

It  happened,  a  few  days  since,  that  she  followed  him  thither 
to  communicate  to  him  something  she  had  omitted,  in  her  re- 
dundant fondness,  to  speak  of  the  evening  before.      When  she 
came  to  his  apartment,  the  servant  there  told  her,  she  was 
coming  with  a  letter  to  her.      While  Cselia  in  an  inner  room 
was  reading  an  apology  from  her  husband,  '^  That  he  had  been 
suddenly  taken  by  some  of  his  acquaintance  to  dine  at  Brent- 
ford, but  that  he  should  return  in  the  evening,"  a  country  girl, 
decently  clad,  asked,  if  those  were  not  the  chambers  of  Mr. 
Palamede  ?    She  was  answered,  they  were  ;  but  that  he  was 
not  in  town.      The  stranger  asked,  when  he  was  expected  at 
home  ?    The  servant  replied,  she  would  go  in  and  ask  his  wife. 
The  young  woman  repeated  the  word  wife,  and  fainted.     This 
accident  raised  no  less  curiosity  than  amazement  in  C^elia,  who 
caused  her  to  be  removed  into  the  inner  room.      Upon  proper 
applications   to  revive  her,  the  unhappy  young  creature  re- 
turned to  herself;  and  said  to   Cgelia,  with  an  earnest  and 
beseeching  tone,  *'  Are  you   really  Mr.   Palamede's   wife  ? " 
Cselia  replies,  "  I  hope  I  do  not  look  as  if  I  were  any  other  in 
the  condition  you   see  me."     The  stranger  answered,   "  No, 
Madam,  he  is  my  husband."      At  the  same  instant,  she  threw 
a  bundle  of  letters  into  C^elia's  lap,  which  confirmed  the  truth 
of  what  she  asserted.      Their  mutual  innocence  and  sorrow 
made  them  look  at  each  other  as  partners  in  distress,  rather 
than  rivals  in  love.     The  superiority  of  C^elia's  understanding 
and   genius   gave   her    an    authority  to   examine    into    this 
adventure,  as  if  she  had  been  offended  against,  and  the  other  the 
delinquent.     The  stranger  spoke  in  the  following  manner  : 


No.  198.]  THE    HISTORY    OF    CiELIA.  323 

''  Madam, 

"  If  if  shall  please  you,  Mr.  Palamede,  having  an  uncle 
of  a  good  estate  near  Winchester,  was  bred  at  the  school  there, 
to  gain  the  more  his  good-will  by  being  in  his  sight.  His 
uncle  died,  and  left  him  the  estate  which  my  husband  now  has. 
When  he  was  a  mere  youth,  he  set  his  affections  on  me  ;  but 
when  he  could  not  gain  his  ends,  he  married  me  ;  making  me 
and  my  mother,  who  is  a  farmer's  widow,  swear  we  would  never 
tell  it  upon  any  account  whatsoever ;  for  that  it  would  not  look 
well  for  him  to  marry  such  a  one  as  me  ;  besides,  that  his 
father  would  cut  him  off  of  the  estate.  I  was  glad  to  have  him 
in  an  honest  way  ;  and  he  now  and  then  came  and  stayed  a  night 
and  away  at  our  house.  But  very  lately,  he  came  down  to  see 
us  with  a  fine  young  gentleman,  his  friend,  who  stayed  behind 
there  with  us,  pretending  to  like  the  place  for  the  summer  : 
but  ever  since  master  Palamede  went,  he  has  attempted  to 
abuse  me  ;  and  I  ran  hither  to  acquaint  him  with  it,  and  avoid 
the  wicked  intentions  of  his  false  friend." 

Caelia  had  no  more  room  for  doubt  ;  but  left  her  rival  in  the 
same  agonies  she  felt  herself.  Palamede  returns  in  the  even- 
ing ;  and  finding  his  wife  at  his  chambers,  learned  all  that 
had  passed,  and  hastened  to  Cselia's  lodgings. 

It  is  much  easier  to  imagine,  than  express,  the  sentiments  of 
either  the  criminal,  or  the  injured,  at  this  encounter. 

As  soon  as  Palamede  had  found  way  for  speech,  he  confessed 
his  marriage,  and  his  placing  his  companion  on  purpose  to 
vitiate  his  wife,  that  he  might  break  through  a  marriage  made 
in  his  nonage,  and  devote  his  riper  and  knowing  years  to 
Caelia.  She  made  him  no  answer  ;  but  retired  to  her  closet. 
He  returned  to  the  Temple,  where  he  soon  after  received  from 
her  the  following  letter  ; 

'*  Sir, 

"  You,  who  this  morning  were  the  best,  are  now  the 
worst  of  men  who  breathe  vital  air.  I  am  at  once  overwhelmed 
with  love,  hatred,  rage,  and  disdain.  Can  infamy  and  innocence 
live  together  ?  I  feel  the  weight  of  the  one  too  strong  for  the 


324  THE    TATLER.  [No.  200. 

comfort  of  the  other.  How  bitter,  Heaven  !  how  bitter  is  mv 
portion  !  How  much  have  I  to  say  !  but  the  infant  which  I 
bear  about  me  stirs  with  my  agitation.  I  am,  Palamede,  to 
live  in  shame,  and  this  creature  be  heir  to  it.  Farewell  for 
ever  ! " 


MATEIMONY. 

No.  200.    THUESDAY,  July  20,  1710.     [Steele.] 

Having  devoted  the  greater  part  of  my  time  to  the  service 
of  the  fair  sex  ;  I  must  ask  pardon  of  my  men  correspondents, 
if  I  postpone  their  commands,  when  I  have  any  from  the 
ladies  which  lie  unanswered.  That  which  follows  is  of  im- 
portance. 

"  Sir, 

"  You  cannot  think  it  strange  if  I,  who  know  little 
of  the  world,  apply  to  you  for  advice  in  the  weighty  affair  of 
matrimony  ;  since  you  yourself  have  often  declared  it  to  be 
of  that  consequence  as  to  require  the  utmost  deliberation. 
Without  farther  preface,  therefore,  give  me  leave  to  tell  you, 
that  my  father  at  his  death  left  me  a  fortune  sufficient  to  make 
me  a  match  for  any  gentleman.  My  mother,  for  she  is  still 
alive,  is  very  pressing  with  me  to  marry  ;  and  I  am  apt  to 
think,  to  gratify  her,  I  shall  venture  upon  one  of  two  gentle- 
men, who  at  this  time  make  their  addresses  to  me.  My 
request  is,  that  you  would  direct  me  in  my  choice  ;  which  that 
you  may  the  better  do,  I  shall  give  you  their  characters  ;  and, 
to  avoid  confusioD,  desire  you  to  call  them  by  the  names  of 
Philander  and  Silvius.  Philander  is  young,  and  has  a  good 
estate  ;  Silvius  is  as  young,  and  has  a  better.  The  former  has 
had  a  liberal  education,  has  seen  the  town,  is  retired  from 
thence  to  his  estate  in  the  country,  is  a  man  of  few  words,  and 
much  given  to  books.     The  latter  was  brought  up  under  his 


No.  200.]  MATRIMONY.  326 

father's  eye,  who  gave  him  just  learning  enough  to  enable  him 
to  keep  his  accounts ;  but  made  him  withal  very  expert  in 
country  business,  such  as  ploughing,  sowing,  buying,  selling, 
and  the  like.  They  are  both  very  sober  men,  neither  of  their 
persons  is  disagreeable,  nor  did  I  know  which  to  prefer  until 
I  had  heard  them  discourse  ;  when  the  conversation  of 
Philander  so  much  prevailed,  as  to  give  him  the  advantage 
with  me,  in  all  other  respects.  My  mother  pleads  strongly  for 
Silvius  ;  and  uses  these  arguments  :  that  he  not  only  has  the 
larger  estate  at  present,  but  by  his  good  husbandry  and 
management  increases  it  daily :  that  his  little  knowledge  in 
other  affairs  will  make  him  easy  and  tractable  ;  whereas, 
according  to  her,  men  of  letters  know  too  much  to  make  good 
husbands.  To  part  of  this,  I  imagine,  I  answer  effectually,  by 
saying,  Philander's  estate  is  large  enough  ;  that  they  who 
think  two  thousand  pounds  a  year  sufficient,  make  no 
difference  between  that  and  three.  I  easily  believe  him  less 
conversant  in  those  affairs,  the  knowledge  of  which  she  so 
much  commends  in  Silvius  ;  but  I  think  them  neither  so 
necessary,  or  becoming  a  gentleman,  as  the  accomplishments 
of  Philander.  It  is  no  great  character  of  a  man  to  say,  he 
rides  in  his  coach  and  six,  and  understands  as  much  as  he  who 
follows  the  plough.  Add  to  this,  that  the  conversation  of 
these  sort  of  men  seems  so  disagreeable  to  me,  that  though 
they  make  good  bailiffs,  I  can  hardly  be  persuaded  they  can 
be  good  companions.  It  is  possible  I  may  seem  to  have  odd 
notions,  when  I  say,  I  am  not  fond  of  a  man  only  for  being  of, 
what  is  called,  a  thriving  temper.  To  conclude,  I  own  I  am 
at  a  loss  to  conceive,  how  good  sense  should  make  a  man  an  iU 
husband,  or  conversant  with  books  less  complaisant. 

The  resolution  which  this  lady  is  going  to  take,  she 
may  very  well  say,  is  founded  on  reason ;  for,  after  the 
necessities  of  life  are  served,  there  is  no  manner  of  competition 
between  a  man  of  a  liberal  education  and  an  illiterate.  Men 
are  not  altered  by  their  circumstances,  but  as  they  give  them 


326  THE    TATLER.  [No.  200. 

opportunities  of  exerting  what  they  are  in  themselves ;  and  a 
powerful  clown  is  a  tyrant  in  the  most  ugly  form  he  can 
possibly  appear.  There  lies  a  seeming  objection  in  the 
thoughtful  manner  of  Philander  :  but  let  her  consider,  which 
she  shall  oftener  have  occasion  to  wish,  that  Philander  would 
speak,  or  Silvius  hold  his  tongue. 

The  train  of  my  discourse  is  prevented  by  the  urgent  haste 
of  another  correspondent, 

"  Mr.   BiCKERSTAFF,  July  14. 

"  This  comes  to  you  from  one  of  those  virgins  of 
twenty-five  years  old  and  upwards,  that  you,  like  a  patron  of  the 
distressed,  promised  to  provide  for  ;  who  makes  it  her  humble 
request,  that  no  occasional  stories  or  subjects  may,  as  they  have 
for  three  or  four  of  your  last  days,  prevent  your  publishing  the 
scheme  you  have  communicated  to  Amanda  ;  for  every  day 
and  hour  is  of  the "  greatest  consequence  to  damsels  of  so 
advanced  an  age.  Be  quick,  then,  if  you  intend  to  do  any 
service  for  your  admirer, 

"  Diana  Forecast." 

In  this  important  affair,  I  have  not  neglected  the  proposals 
of  others.  Among  them  is  the  following  sketch  of  a  lottery 
for  persons.  The  author  of  it  has  proposed  very  ample  en- 
couragement, not  only  to  myself,  but  also  to  Charles  Lillie 
and  John  Morphew.  If  the  matter  bears,  I  shall  not  be  unjust 
to  his  merit  :  I  only  desire  to  enlarge  his  plan  ;  for  which 
purpose  I  lay  it  before  the  town,  as  well  for  the  improvement 
as  the  encourasrement  of  it. 


THE  amicable   CONTEIBUTION  FOR  RAISING  THE 
FORTUNES   OF  TEN   YOUNG  LADIES. 

"  Imprimis, — It  is  proposed  to  raise  one  hundred  thousand 
crowns  by  way  of  lots,  which  will  advance  for  each  lady  two 
thousand  five  hundred  pounds  ;  which  sum,  together  with  one 
of  the  ladies,  the  gentleman  that  shall  be  so  happy  as  to  draw 
a  prize,  provided  they  both  like,  will  be  entitled  to,  under 


No.  200.]  MATRIMONY.  327 

such  restrictions  hereafter  mentioned.  And  in  case  they  do 
not  like,  then  either  party  that  refuses  shall  be  entitled  to  one 
thousand  pounds  only,  and  the  remainder  to  him  or  her  that 
shall  be  willing  to  marry,  the  man  being  first  to  declare  his 
mind.  But  it  is  provided,  that  if  both  parties  shall  consent  to 
have  one  another,  the  gentleman  shall,  before  he  receives  the 
money  thus  raised,  settle  one  thousand  pounds  of  the  same  in 
substantial  hands  (who  shall  be  as  trustees  for  the  said  ladies), 
and  shall  have  the  whole  and  sole  disposal  of  it  for  her  use 
only. 

"  Note,  each  party  shall  have  three  months'  time  to  consider, 
after  an  interview  had,  which  shall  be  within  ten  days  after 
the  lots  are  drawn. 

"  Note  also,  the  name  and  place  of  abode  of  the  prize  shall 
be  placed  on  a  proper  ticket. 

"  Item,  they  shall  be  ladies  that  have  had  a  liberal  education, 
between  fifteen  and  twenty-three  ;  all  genteel,  witty,  and  of 
unblameable  characters. 

"  The  money  to  be  raised  shall  be  kept  in  an  iron  box  ;  and 
when  there  shall  be  two  thousand  subscriptions,  which  amounts 
to  five  hundred  pounds,  it  shall  be  taken  out  and  put  into  a 
goldsmith's  hand,  and  the  note  made  payable  to  the  proper 
lady,  or  her  assigns,  with  a  clause  therein  to  hinder  her  from 
receiving  it,  until  the  fortunate  person  that  draws  her  shall 
first  sign  the  note,  and  so  on  until  the  whole  sum  is  subscribed 
for :  and  as  soon  as  one  hundred  thousand  subscriptions  are 
completed,  and  two  hundred  crowns  more  to  pay  the  charges, 
the  lottery  shall  be  drawn  at  a  proper  place,  to  be  appointed  a 
fortnight  before  the  drawing. 

**  Note,  Mr.  Bickerstafi"  objects  to  the  marriageable  years 
here  mentioned  ;  and  is  of  opinion,  they  should  not  commence 
until  after  twenty-three.  But  he  appeals  to  the  learned,  both 
of  Warwick  Lane  and  Bishopsgate  Street,*  on  this  subject." 

*  The  College  of  Physicians  met  at  that  time  in  Warwick  Lane,  and  the 
Royal  Society  at  Gresham  College,  in  Bishopsgate  Street. 


328  THE    TATLER.  [No.  202. 

AMBITION. 

Xo.  202.     TUESDAY,  July  25,  1710.     [Steele.] 

Est  hie, 

Est  Ulubris,  animus  si  te  non  deficit  sequus. 

HoR.  1  Ep.  11. 

True  happiness  is  to  no  spot  confin'd  : 
If  you  preserve  a  firm  and  equal  mind, 
'Tis  here,  'tis  there,  and  every  where. 


This  afternoon  I  went  to  visit  a  gentleman  of  m  j  acquaint- 
ance at  Mile-End  ;  and  passing  through  Stepney  church-yard, 
I  could  not  forbear  entertaining  myself  with  the  inscriptions 
on  the  tombs  and  graves.  Among  others,  I  observed  one  with 
this  notable  memorial : 

*'  Here  lies  the  body  of  T.  B." 

This  fanatical  desire,  of  being  remembered  only  by  the  two 
first  letters  of  a  name,  led  me  into  the  contemplation  of  the 
vanity  and  imperfect  attainments  of  ambition  in  general. 
When  I  run  back  in  my  imagination  all  the  men  whom  I  have 
ever  knoAvn  and  conversed  with  in  my  whole  life,  there  are  but 
very  few  who  have  not  used  their  faculties  in  the  pursuit  of 
what  it  is  impossible  to  acquire  ;  or  left  the  possession  of  what 
they  might  haA^e  been,  at  their  setting  out,  masters,  to  seai'ch 
for  it  where  it  was  out  of  their  reach.  In  this  thought  it  was 
not  jDossible  to  forget  the  instance  of  Pyrrhus,  who  proposing 
to  himself  in  discourse  with  a  philosopher,  one,  and  another, 
and  another  conquest,  was  asked,  what  he  would  after  all  that  ? 
*'  Then,"  says  the  king,  "  we  will  make  merry."  He  was  well 
answered.  "  What  hinders  you  doing  that  in  the  condition  you 
are  already  ? "  The  restless  desire  of  exerting  themselves 
above  the  common  level  of  mankind  is  not  to  be  resisted  in 
some  tempers  ;  and  minds  of  this  miike  may  be  observed  in 
every  condition  of  life.  Where  such  men  do  not  make  to 
themselves,  or  meet  with  employment,  the  soil  of  their  con- 
stitution runs  into  tares  and  weeds.     An  old  friend  of  mine, 


No.  202.]  AMBITION.  329 

who  lost  a  major's  post  forty  years  ago,  and  quitted,  has  ever 
since  studied  maps,  encampments,  retreats,  and  counter- 
marches ;  with  no  other  design  but  to  feed  his  spleen  and 
ill-humour,  and  furnish  himself  with  matter  for  arguing  against 
all  the  successful  actions  of  others.  He  that,  at  his  first 
setting  out  in  the  world,  was  the  gayest  man  in  our  regiment  ; 
ventured  his  life  with  alacrity,  and  enjoyed  it  with  satisfaction  ; 
encouraged  men  below  him,  and  was  courted  by  men  above 
him,  has  been  ever  since  the  most  froward  creature  breathing. 
His  warm  complexion  spends  itself  now  only  in  a  general 
spirit  of  contradiction  ;  for  which  he  watches  all  occasions, 
and  is  in  his  conversation  still  upo7i  ceniry,  treats  all  men  like 
enemies,  with  every  other  impertinence  of  a  speculative 
warrior. 

He,  that  observes  in  himself  this  natural  inquietude,  should 
take  all  imaginable  care  to  put  his  mind  in  some  method  of 
gratification  ;  or  he  will  soon  find  himself  grow  into  the  con- 
dition of  this  disappointed  major.  Instead  of  courting  proper 
occasions  to  rise  above  others,  he  will  be  ever  studious  of 
pulling  others  down  to  him  :  it  being  the  common  refuge  of 
disappointed  ambition,  to  ease  themselves  by  detraction.  It 
would  be  no  great  argument  against  ambition,  that  there  are 
such  mortal  things  in  the  disappointment  of  it  ;  but  it  cer- 
tainly is  a  forcible  exception,  that  there  can  be  no  solid 
happiness  in  the  success  of  it.  If  we  value  popular  praise,  it 
is  in  the  power  of  the  meanest  of  the  people  to  disturb  us  by 
calumny.  If  the  fame  of  being  happy,  we  cannot  look  into  a 
village,  but  we  see  crowds  in  actual  possession  of  what  we 
seek  only  the  appearance.  To  this  may  be  added,  that  there 
is  I  know  not  what  malignity  in  the  minds  of  ordinary  men, 
to  oppose  you  in  what  they  see  you  fond  of ;  and  it  is  a  certain 
exception  against  a  man's  receiving  applause,  that  he  visibly 
courts  it.  However,  this  is  not  only  the  passion  of  great  and 
undertaking  spirits  ;  but  you  see  it  in  the  lives  of  such  as,  one 
would  believe,  were  far  enough  removed  from  the  ways  of 
ambition.  The  rural  esquires  of  this  nation  even  eat  and 
drink  out  of  vanity.     A  vain-glorious  fox-hunter  shall  enter- 

z  2 


330  THE    TATLER.  [No.  202. 

tain  half  a  county,  for  the  ostentation  of  his  beef  and  beer, 
without  the  least  affection  for  any  of  the  crowd  about  him. 
He  feeds  them,  because  he  thinks  it  a  superiority  over  them 
that  he  does  so  ;  and  they  devour  him,  because  they  know  he 
treats  them  out  of  insolence.  This  indeed  is  ambition  in 
grotesque  ;  but  may  figure  to  us  the  condition  of  politer  men, 
whose  only  pursuit  is  glory.  When  the  superior  acts  out  of  a 
principle  of  vanity,  the  dependent  will  be  sure  to  allow  it  him ; 
because  he  knows  it  destructive  of  the  very  applause  which  is 
courted  by  the  man  who  favours  him,  and  consequently  makes 
him  nearer  himself. 

But  as  every  man  living  has  more  or  less  of  this  incentive, 
which  makes  men  impatient  of  an  inactive  condition,  and 
urges  men  to  attempt  what  may  tend  to  their  reputation  ;  it 
is  absolutely  necessary  they  should  form  to  themselves  an 
ambition,  which  is  in  every  man's  power  to  gratify.  This 
ambition  would  be  independent,  and  would  consist  only  in 
acting  what,  to  a  man's  own  mind,  appears  most  great  and 
laudable.  It  is  a  pursuit  in  the  power  of  every  man,  and  is 
only  a  regular  prosecution  of  what  he  himself  approves.  It  is 
what  can  be  interrupted  by  no  outward  accidents  ;  for  no  man 
can  be  robbed  of  his  good  intention.  One  of  our  society  of 
the  Trumpet  *  therefore  started  last  night  a  notion,  which  I 
thought  had  reason  in  it.  "  It  is,  methinks,"  said  he,  "  an 
unreasonable  thing,  that  honest  virtue  should,  as  it  seems  to 
be  at  present,  be  confined  to  a  certain  order  of  men,  and  be 
attainable  by  none  but  those  whom  fortune  has  elevated  to  the 
most  conspicuous  stations.  I  would  have  everything  to  be 
esteemed  as  heroic,  which  is  great  and  uncommon  in  the 
circumstances  of  the  man  who  performs  it."  Thus  there 
would  be  no  virtue  in  human  life,  which  every  one  of  the 
species  would  not  have  a  pretence  to  arrive  at,  and  an  ardency 
to  exert.  Since  fortune  is  not  in  our  power,  let  us  be  as  little 
as  possible  in  hers.  Why  should  it  be  necessary  that  a  man 
should  be  rich,  to  be  generous  ?     If  we  measured  by  the  quaHty 

*  A  tavern  iu  Sheer  Lane. 


No.  203.  THE    VAGARIES    OF    FORTUNE.  331 

and  not  the  quantity  of  things,  the  particulars  which  accom- 
pany an  action  is  what  should  denominate  it  mean  or  great. 
The  highest  station  of  human  life  is  to  be  attained  by  each 
man  that  pretends  to  it :  for  any  man  can  be  as  valiant,  as 
generous,  as  wise,  and  as  merciful,  as  the  faculties  and  oppor- 
tunities which  he  has  from  heaven  and  fortune  will  permit. 
He  that  can  say  to  himself,  "  I  do  as  much  good,  and  am  as 
virtuous  as  my  most  earnest  endeavours  will  allow  me,"  what- 
ever is  his  station  in  the  world,  is  to  himself  possessed  of  the 
highest  honour.  If  ambition  is  not  thus  turned,  it  is  no  other 
than  a  continual  succession  of  anxiety  and  vexation.  But 
when  it  has  this  cast,  it  invigorates  the  mind ;  and  the  con- 
sciousness of  its  own  worth  is  a  reward,  which  is  not  in  the 
power  of  envy,  reproach,  or  detraction,  to  take  from  it.  Thus 
the  seat  of  solid  honour  is  in  a  man's  own  bosom  ;  and  no 
one  can  want  support  who  is  in  possession  of  an  honest  con- 
science, but  he  who  would  suffer  the  reproaches  of  it  for  other 
greatness. 


VAGAEIES  OF  FORTUNE. 

No.  203.     THURSDAY,  July  27,  1710.     [Steele.] 

Ut  tu  fortunam,  sic  nos  te,  Celse,  feremus. 

HoR.  1  Ep.  viii. 

As  Celsus  bears  this  change  of  fortune, 
So  will  his  friends  bear  him. 

It  is  natural  for  the  imaginations  of  men,  who  lead  their 
lives  in  too  solitary  a  manner,  to  prey  upon  themselves,  and 
form  from  their  own  conceptions,  beings  and  things  which  have 
no  place  in  nature.  This  often  makes  an  adept  as  much  at  a 
loss,  when  he  comes  into  the  world,  as  a  mere  savage.  To 
avoid  therefore  that  ineptitude  for  society,  which  is  frequently 
the  fault  of  us  scholars,  and  has,  to  men  of  understanding  and 
breeding,  something  much  more  shocking  and  untractable  than 
rusticity  itself  ;  I  take  care  to  visit  all  public  solemnities,  and 


332  THE    TATLER.  [No.  203. 

go  into  assemblies  as  often  as  my  studies  will  permit.  This 
being  therefore  the  first  day  of  the  drawing  of  the  lottery,  I 
did  not  neglect  spending  a  considerable  time  in  the  crowd  : 
but  as  much  a  philosopher  as  I  pretend  to  be,  I  could  not  but 
look  with  a  sort  of  veneration  upon  the  two  boys  *  who  received 
the  tickets  from  the  wheels,  as  the  impartial  and  equal  dis- 
pensers of  the  fortunes  which  were  to  be  distributed  among  the 
crowd,  who  all  stood  expecting  the  same  chance.  It  seems  at 
first  thought  very  wonderful,  that  one  passion  should  so 
universally  have  the  pre-eminence  of  another  in  the  possession 
of  men's  minds,  as  that  in  this  case  all  in  general  have  a  secret 
hope  of  the  great  ticket  :  and  yet  fear  in  another  instance,  as 
in  going  into  a  battle,  shall  have  so  little  influence,  as  that, 
though  each  man  believes  there  will  be  many  thousands  slain, 
each  is  confident  he  himself  shall  escape.  This  certainly  pro- 
ceeds from  our  vanity ;  for  every  man  sees  abundance  in  him- 
self that  deserves  reward,  and  nothing  which  should  meet  with 
mortification. 

But  of  all  the  adventurers  that  filled  the  hall,  there  was 
one  who  stood  by  me,  who  I  could  not  but  fancy  expected 
the  thousand  pounds  per  annum,  as  a  mere  justice  to  his  parts 
and  industry.  He  had  his  pencil  and  table-book  ;  and  was, 
at  the  drawing  of  each  lot,  counting  how  much  a  man  with 
seven  tickets  was  now  nearer  the  great  prize,  by  the  strik- 
ing out  another,  and  another  competitor.  This  man  was  of 
the  most  particular  constitution  I  had  ever  observed  ;  his 
passions  were  so  active,  that  he  worked  in  the  utmost  stretch 
of  hope  and  fear.  When  one  rival  fell  before  him,  you  might 
see  a  gleam  of  triumph  in  his  countenance  ;  which  immediately 
vanished  at  the  approach  of  another.  What  added  to  the 
particularity  of  this  man  was,  that  he  every  moment  cast  a 
look  either  upon  the  commissioners,  the  wheels,  or  the  boys.  I 
gently  whispered  him,  and  asked,  "  when  he  thought  the 
thousand  pounds  would  come  up  ?  "  "  Pugh,"  says  he,  "  who 
knows  that  ? "  And  then  looks  upon  a  little  list  of  his  own 

*  Blue-coat  bovs  were  selected  to  dra^-  out  tlie  tickets. 


No.  203.]  THE    VAGARIES    OF    FORTUNE.  333 

tickets,  which  were  pretty  high  iu  their  numbers,  and  said  it 
would  not  come  this  ten  days.  This  fellow  will  have  a  jrood 
chance,  though  not  that  whi(jh  he  has  put  his  heart  on.  The 
man  is  mechanically  turned,  and  made  for  getting.  The 
simplicity  and  eagerness  which  he  is  in,  argues  an  atteation  to 
his  point ;  though  what  he  is  labouring  at  does  not  in  the 
least  contribute  to  it.  Were  it  not  for  such  honest  fellows  as 
these,  the  men  who  govern  the  rest  of  their  species  would  have 
no  tools  to  work  with  :  for  the  outward  show  of  the  world  is 
carried  on  by  such  as  cannot  find  out  that  they  are  doing 
nothing.  I  left  my  man  with  great  reluctance,  seeing  the 
care  he  took  to  observe  the  whole  conduct  of  the  persons  con- 
cerned, and  compute  the  inequality  of  the  chances  with  his 
own  hands  and  eyes.  "  Dear  sir,"  said  I,  "  they  must  rise 
early  that  cheat  you."  "Ay,"  said  he,  "  there  is  nothing  lilie 
a  man's  minding  his  business  himself."  "  It  is  very  true," 
said  I  ;  "  the  master's  eye  makes  the  horse  fat." 

As  much  the  greater  number  are  to  go  without  prizes,  it  is 
but  very  expedient  to  turn  our  lecture,  to  the  forming  jast 
sentiments  on  the  subjects  of  fortune.  One  said  this  morning, 
"  that  the  chief  lot,  he  was  confident,  would  fall  upon  some 
puppy  ; "  but  this  gentleman  is  one  of  those  wrong  tempers, 
who  approve  only  the  unhappy,  and  have  a  natural  prejudice 
to  the  fortunate.  But,  as  it  is  certain  that  there  is  a  great 
meanness  in  being  attached  to  a  man  purely  for  his  fortune  ; 
there  is  no  less  a  meanness  in  disliking  him  for  his  happiness. 
It  is  the  same  perverseness  under  different  colours  ;  and  both 
these  resentments  arise  from  mere  pride. 

True  greatness  of  mind  consists  in  valuing  men  apart  from 
their  circumstances,  or  according  to  their  behaviour  in  them. 
Wealth  is  a  distinction  only  in  traffic  ;  but  it  must  not  be 
allowed  as  a  recommendation  in  any  other  particular,  but  only 
just  as  it  is  applied.  It  was  very  prettily  said,  "  That  we  may 
learn  the  little  value  of  fortune  by  the  persons  on  whom 
heaven  is  pleased  to  bestow  it."  However,  there  is  not  a 
harder  part  in  human  life,  than  becoming  wealth  and  great- 
ness.    He  must  be  veiy  well  stocked  with  merit,  who  is  not 


334  THE    TATLER.  [No.  203. 

willing  to  draw  some  superiority  over  his  friends  from  his 
fortune  ;  for  it  is  not  every  man  that  can  entertain  with  the 
air  of  a  guest,  and  do  good  offices  with  the  mien  of  one  that 
receives  them. 

I  must  confess,  I  cannot  conceive  how  a  man  can  place  him- 
self in  a  figure  wherein  he  can  so  much  enjoy  his  own  soul, 
and,  that  greatest  of  pleasures,  the  just  approbation  of  his 
own  actions,  than  as  an  adventurer  on  this  occasion,  to  sit  and 
see  the  lots  go  off  without  hope  and  fear ;  perfectly  uncon- 
cerned as  to  himself,  but  taking  part  in  the  good  fortune  of 
others. 

I  will  believe  there  are  happy  tempers  in  being,  to  whom  all 
the  good  that  arrives  to  any  of  their  fellow-creatures  gives  a 
pleasure.  These  live  in  a  course  of  lasting  and  substantial 
happiness,  and  have  the  satisfaction  to  see  all  men  endeavour 
to  gratify  them.  This  state  of  mind  not  only  lets  a  man  into 
certain  enjoyments,  but  relieves  him  from  as  certain  anxieties. 
If  you  will  not  rejoice  with  happy  men,  you  must  repine  at 
them.  Dick  Reptile  alluded  to  this  when  he  said,  "  he  would 
hate  no  man,  out  of  pure  idleness."  As  for  my  own  part,  I 
look  at  Fortune  in  quite  another  view  than  the  rest  of  the 
world ;  and,  by  my  knowledge  in  futurity,  tremble  at  the 
approaching  prize,  which  I  see  coming  to  a  young  lady  for 
whom  I  have  much  tenderness  ;  and  have  therefore  writ  to  her 
the  following  letter,  to  be  sent  by  Mr.  EUiot,  with  the  notice 
of  her  ticket. 

"  Madmi, 

"You  receive,  at  the  instant  this  comes  to  your  hands, 
an  account  of  your  having,  what  you  only  wanted,  fortune  ;  and 
to  admonish  you,  that  you  may  not  now  want  every  thing  else. 
You  had  yesterday  wit,  virtue,  beauty  ;  but  you  never  heard  of 
them  until  to-day.  They  say  Fortune  is  blind  ;  but  you  will 
find  she  has  opened  the  eyes  of  all  your  beholders.  I  beseech 
you,  madam,  make  use  of  the  advantages  of  having  been 
educated  without  flattery.  If  you  can  still  be  Chloe,  Fortune 
has  indeed  been  kind  to  you  ;  if  you  are  altered,  she  has  it  not 
in  her  power  to  give  you  an  equivalent." 


No.  204.]  SOUNDS    OF    HONOUR.  335 

SOUNDS  OF  HONOUR. 

No.  204.     SATURDAY,  July  29,  1710.     [Steele.] 

Qaudent  praenomine  molles 

Auriculae HoR.  2  Sat.  v.  32. 

He  with  rapture  hears 


A  little  tingling  in  his  tender  ears. 

Many  are  the  inconveniences  which  happen  from  the  im- 
proper manner  of  address  in  common  speech,  between  persons 
of  the  same  or  of  different  quality.  Among  these  errors,  there 
is  none  greater  than  that  of  the  impertinent  use  of  title,  and 
a  paraphrastical  way  of  saying.  You.  I  had  the  curiosity  the 
other  day,  to  follow  a  crowd  of  people  near  Billingsgate,  who 
were  conducting  a  passionate  woman  that  sold  fish  to  a 
magistrate,  in  order  to  explain  some  words,  which  were  ill 
taken  by  one  of  her  own  quality  and  profession  in  the  public 
market.  When  she  came  to  her  defence,  she  was  so  very  full 
of,  "  His  Worship,"  and  of,  "  If  it  should  please  his  Honour," 
that  we  could,  for  some  time,  hardly  hear  any  other  apology 
she  made  for  herself,  than  that  of  atoning  for  the  ill  language 
she  had  been  accused  of  towards  her  neighbour,  by  the  great 
civilities  she  paid  to  her  judge.  But  this  extravagance  in 
her  sense  of  doing  honour  was  no  more  to  be  wondered  at, 
than  that  her  many  rings  on  each  finger  were  worn  as  instances 
of  finery  and  dress.  The  vulgar  may  thus  heap  and  huddle 
terms  of  respect,  and  nothing  better  be  expected  from  them  ; 
but  for  people  of  rank  to  repeat  appellatives  insignificantly, 
is  a  folly  not  to  be  endured,  neither  with  regard  to  our  time, 
or  our  understanding.  It  is  below  the  dignity  of  speech  to 
extend  it  with  more  words  or  phrases  than  are  necessary  to 
explain  ourselves  with  elegance  ;  and  it  is,  methinks,  an 
instance  of  ignorance,  if  not  of  servitude,  to  be  redundant  in 
such  expressions. 

I  waited  upon  a  man  of  quality  some  mornings  ago.  He 
happened  to  be  dressing  ;  and  his   shoe-maker  fitting  him. 


336  THE    TATLER.  [No.  204. 

told  him,  "  that  if  iiis  Lordship  would  please  to  tread  hard, 
or  that  if  his  Lordship  would  stamp  a  little,  his  Lordship 
would  find  his  Lordship's  shoe  will  fit  as  easy  as  any  piece  of 
work  his  Lordship  should  see  in  England."  As  soon  as  my 
lord  was  dressed,  a  gentleman  approached  him  with  a  very 
good  air,  and  told  him,  ^'  he  had  an  affair  which  had  long 
depended  in  the  lower  courts ;  which  through  the  inadvertency 
of  his  ancestors  on  the  one  side,  and  the  ill  arts  of  their 
adversaries  on  the  other,  could  not  possibly  be  settled  accord- 
ing to  the  rules  of  the  lower  courts  ;  that,  therefore,  he 
designed  to  bring  his  cause  before  the  House  of  Lords  next 
session,  where  he  should  be  glad  if  his  Lordship  should 
happen  to  be  present ;  for  he  doubted  not  but  his  cause  would 
be  approved  by  all  men  of  justice  and  honour."  In  this  place 
the  word  Lordship  was  gracefully  inserted  ;  because  it  was 
applied  to  him  in  that  circumstance  wherein  his  quality  was 
the  occasion  of  the  discourse,  and  wherein  it  was  most  useful 
to  the  one,  and  most  honourable  to  the  other. 

This  way  is  so  far  from  being  disrespectful  to  the  honour 
of  nobles,  that  it  is  an  expedient  for  using  them  with  greater 
deference.  I  would  not  put  Lordship  to  a  man's  hat,  gloves, 
wig,  or  cane  ;  but  to  desire  his  Lordship's  favour,  his  Lord- 
ship's judgment,  or  his  Lordship's  patronage,  is  a  manner  of 
speaking,  which  expresses  an  alliance  between  his  quality  and 
his  merit.  It  is  this  knowledge,  which  distinguished  the 
discourse  of  the  shoe-maker  from  that  of  the  gentleman.  The 
highest  point  of  good-breeding,  if  any  can  hit  it,  is  to  shew 
a  very  nice  regard  to  your  own  dignity,  and,  with  that  in  your 
heart,  express  your  value  for  the  man  above  you. 

But  the  silly  humour  to  the  contrary  has  so  much  pre- 
vailed, that  the  lavish  addition  of  title  enervates  discourse, 
and  renders  the  application  of  it  almost  ridiculous.  We 
writers  of  Diurnals  are  nearer  in  our  style  to  that  of  common 
talk  than  any  other  writers,  by  which  means  we  use  words  of 
respect  sometimes  very  unfortunately.  The  Post-man,  who 
is  one  of  the  most  celebrated  of  our  fraternity,  fell  into  this 
misfortune   yesterday  in   his   paragraph   from  Berlin   of  the 


No.  204.]  SOUNDS    OF    HONOUR.  337 

twenty-sixth  of  July.  "  Count  Wartembourg,"  says  he,  '^  g'reat 
chamberlain,  and  chief  minister  of  this  court,  who  on  Monday 
last  accompanied  the  King  of  Prussia  to  Oranienburg,  was 
taken  so  very  ill,  that  on  Wednesday  his  life  was  despaired 
of  ;  and  we  had  a  report,  that  his  Excellency  was  dead." 

I  humbly  presume  that  it  flattens  the  narration,  to  say  his 
Excellency  in  a  case  which  is  common  to  all  men  ;  except  you 
would  infer  what  is  not  to  be  inferred,  to  wit,  that  the  author 
designed  to  say,  "  all  wherein  he  excelled  others  was  departed 
from  him." 

Were  distinctions  used  according  to  the  rules  of  reason  and 
sense,  those  additions  to  men's  names  would  be,  as  they  were 
first  intended,  significant  of  their  worth,  and  not  their  persons ; 
so  that  in  some  cases  it  might  be  proper  to  say,  "  The  man  is 
dead  ;  but  his  Excellency  will  never  die."  It  is,  methinks, 
very  unjust  to  laugh  at  a  Quaker,  because  he  has  taken  up  a 
resolution  to  treat  you  with  a  word,  the  most  expressive  of 
complaisance  that  can  be  thought  of,  and  with  an  air  of  good- 
nature and  charity  calls  you  Friend.  I  say,  it  is  very  unjust 
to  rally  him  for  this  term  to  a  stranger,  when  you  yourself, 
in  all  your  phrases  of  distinction,  confound  phrases  of  honour 
into  no  use  at  all. 

Tom  Courtly,  who  is  the  pink  of  courtesy,  is  an  instance 
of  how  little  moment  an  undistinguishing  application  of 
sounds  of  honour  are  to  those  who  understand  themselves. 
Tom  never  fails  of  paying  his  obeisance  to  every  man  he  sees, 
who  has  title  or  office  to  make  him  conspicuous  ;  but  his 
deference  is  wholly  given  to  outward  considerations.  I,  who 
know  him,  can  tell  him  within  half  an  acre,  how  much  land 
one  man  has  more  than  another  by  Tom's  bow  to  him.  Title 
is  all  he  knows  of  honour,  and  civility  of  friendship  for  this 
reason,  because  he  cares  for  no  man  living,  he  is  religiously 
strict  in  performing,  what  he  calls,  his  respects  to  you.  To 
this  end  he  is  very  learned  in  pedigree  ;  and  will  abate  some- 
thing in  the  ceremony  of  his  approaches  to  a  man,  if  he  is  in 
any  doubt  about  the  bearing  of  his  coat  of  arms.  What  is 
the  most  pleasant  of  all  his  character  is,  that  he  acts  with  a 


338  THE    TATLEE.  [No.  206. 

sort  of  integrity  in  these  impertinences  ;  and  though  he  would 
not  do  any  solid  kindness,  he  is  wonderfully  just  and  careful 
not  to  wrong  his  quality.  But  as  integrity  is  very  scarce  in 
the  world,  I  cannot  forbear  having  respect  for  the  impertinent : 
it  is  some  virtue  to  be  bound  by  any  thing.  Tom  and  I  are 
upon  very  good  terms,  for  the  respect  he  has  for  the  house  of 
Bickerstaff.  Though  one  cannot  but  laugh  at  his  serious 
consideration  of  things  so  little  essential,  one  must  have  a 
value  even  for  a  frivolous  good  conscience. 


LOVE  AND  ESTEEM. 

No.  206.    THURSDAY,  August  3,  1710.     [Steele.] 

Metiri  se  quemque  suo  modulo  ac  pede  verum  est. 

HoR.  1.  Ep.  vii. 

All  should  be  confin'd 


Within  the  bounds,  which  nature  hath  assign'd. 

The  general  purposes  of  men  in  the  conduct  of  their  lives,  I 
mean  with  relation  to  this  life  only,  end  in  gaining  either  the 
affection  or  the  esteem  of  those  with  whom  they  converse. 
Esteem  makes  a  man  powerful  in  business,  and  affection 
desirable  in  conversation ;  which  is  certainly  the  reason  that 
very  agreeable  men  fail  of  their  point  in  the  world,  and  those 
who  are  by  no  means  such  arrive  at  it  with  much  ease.  If  it 
be  visible  in  a  man's  carriage  that  he  has  a  strong  passion  to 
please,  no  one  is  much  at  a  loss  how  to  keep  measure  with 
him ;  because  there  is  always  a  balance  in  people's  hands  to 
make  up  with  him,  by  giving  him  what  he  still  wants  in 
exchange  for  what  you  think  fit  to  deny  him.  Such  a  person 
asks  with  diffidence,  and  ever  leaves  room  lor  denial  by  that 
softness  of  his  complexion.  At  the  same  time  he  himself  is 
capable  of  denying  nothing,  even  what  he  is  not  able  to 
perform.  The  other  sort  of  man  who  courts  esteem,  having  a 
quite  different  view,  has  as  different  a  behaviour ;  and  acts  as 


No.  206.]  LOVE    AND    ESTEEM.  339 

much  by  the  dictates  of  his  reason,  as  the  other  does  by  the 
impulse  of  his  inclination.  You  must  pay  for  every  thing  you 
have  of  him.  He  considers  mankind  as  a  people  in  commerce, 
and  never  gives  out  of  himself  what  he  is  sure  will  not  come  in 
with  interest  from  another.  xVll  his  words  and  actions  tend  to 
the  advancement  of  his  reputation  and  his  fortune,  towards 
which  he  makes  hourly  progress,  because  he  lavishes  no  part  of 
his  good-will  upon  such  as  do  not  make  some  advances  to 
merit  it.  The  man  who  values  affection,  sometimes  becomes 
popular  ;  he  who  aims  at  esteem,  seldom  fails  of  growing  rich. 
Thus  far  we  have  looked  at  these  different  men,  as  persons 
who  endeavoured  to  be  valued  and  beloved  from  design  or 
ambition  ;  but  they  appear  quite  in  another  figure,  when  you 
observe  the  men  who  are  agreeable  and  venerable  from  the 
force  of  their  natural  inclinations.  "We  affect  the  company  of 
him  who  has  least  regard  of  himself  in  his  carriage,  who  throws 
himself  into  unguarded  gaiety,  voluntary  mirth,  and  general 
good  humour  ;  who  has  nothing  in  his  head  but  the  present 
hour,  and  seems  to  have  all  his  interest  and  passions  gratified, 
if  every  man  else  in  the  room  is  unconcerned  as  himself.  This 
man  usually  has  no  quality  or  character  among  his  companions ; 
let  him  be  born  of  whom  he  will,  have  what  great  qualities  he 
please  ;  let  him  be  capable  of  assuming  for  a  moment  what 
figure  he  pleases,  he  still  dwells  in  the  imagination 
of  all  who  know  him  but  as  Jack  Such-a-one.  This  makes 
Jack  brighten  up  the  room  wherever  he  enters,  and  change  the 
severity  of  the  company  into  that  gaiety  and  good  humour, 
into  which  his  conversation  generally  leads  them.  It  is  not 
unpleasant  to  observe  even  this  sort  of  creature  go  out  of  his 
character,  to  check  himself  sometimes  for  his  familiarities,  and 
pretend  so  aukwardly  at  procuring  to  himself  more  esteem 
than  he  finds  he  meets  with.  I  was  the  other  day  walking 
with  Jack  Gainly  towards  Lincoln's-inn-walks  :  we  met  a 
fellow  who  is  a  lower  officer  where  Jack  is  in  the  direction. 

Jack   cries    to   him,   **  So   how   is   it,   Mr. ?"     He 

answers,  "  Mr.  Gainly,  I  am  glad  to  see  you  well."    This  ex- 
pression of  equality  gave  my  friend  a  pang,  which  appeared  in 


340  THE    TATLER.  [No.  206. 

the  flush  of  his  countenance.  "  Pry  thee,  Jack,"  says  I,  "do  not 
be  angry  at  the  man  ;  for  do  what  you  will,  the  man  can  only 
love  you  ;  be  contented  with  the  image  the  man  has  of  thee  ; 
for  if  thou  aimest  at  any  other,  it  must  be  hatred  and  con- 
tempt." I  went  on,  and  told  him,  "  Look  you,  Jack,  I  have 
heard  thee  sometimes  talk  like  an  oracle  for  half  an  hour,  with 
the  sentiments  of  a  Roman,  the  closeness  of  a  schoolman,  and 
the  integrity  of  a  divine  ;  but  then.  Jack,  while  I  admired 
thee,  it  was  upon  topics  which  did  not  concern  thyself ;  and 
where  the  greatness  of  the  subject,  added  to  thy  being  per- 
sonally unconcerned  in  it,  created  all  that  was  great  in  thy 
discourse."  I  did  not  mind  his  being  a  little  out  of  humour  ; 
but  comforted  him,  by  giving  him  several  instances  of  men  of 
our  acquaintance,  who  had  no  one  quality  in  any  eminence, 
that  were  much  more  esteemed  than  he  was  with  very  many  : 
"  but  the  thing  is,  if  your  character  is  to  give  pleasure,  men 
will  consider  you  only  in  that  light,  and  not  in  those  acts 
which  turn  to  esteem  and  veneration." 

When  I  think  of  Jack  Gainly,  I  cannot  but  reflect  also  upon 
his  sister  Gatty.  She  is  young,  witty,  pleasant,  innocent. 
This  is  her  natural  character  ;  but  when  she  observes  any  one 
admired  for  what  they  call  a  fine  woman,  she  is  all  the  next 
day  womanly,  prudent,  observing,  and  vu-tuous.  She  is  every 
moment  asked  in  her  prudential  behaviour,  whether  she  is  not 
well  ?  Upon  which  she  as  often  answers  in  a  fret,  "  Do  people 
think  one  must  be  always  romping,  always  a  Jack-pudding  ?  " 
I  never  fail  to  enquire  of  her,  if  my  lady  such-a-one,  that  awful 
beauty,  was  not  at  the  play  last  night  ?  She  knows  the  con- 
nection between  that  question  and  her  change  of  humour,  and 
says,  "  It  would  be  very  well  if  some  people  would  examine 
into  themselves,  as  much  as  they  do  into  others."  Or,  "  Sure, 
there  is  nothing  in  the  world  so  ridiculous  as  an  amorous  old 
man." 

As  I  was  saying,  there  is  a  class  which  every  man  is  in  by 
his  post  in  nature,  from  which  it  is  impossible  for  him  to  with- 
di'aw  to  another,  and  become  it.  Therefore  it  is  necessary  that 
each  should  be  contented  with  it,  and  not  endeavour  at  any 


No.  206.]  LOVE    AND    ESTEEM.  341 

progress  out  of  that  track.  To  follow  nature  is  the  only 
agreeable  course,  which  is  what  I  would  fain  inculcate  to 
those  jarring  companions,  Flavia  and  Lucia.  They  are  mother 
and  daughter.  Flavia,  who  is  the  mamma,  has  all  the  charms 
and  desires  of  youth  still  about  her,  and  is  not  much  turned  of 
thirty.  Lucia  is  blooming  and  amorous,  and  but  a  little  above 
fifteen.  The  mother  looks  very  much  younger  than  she  is,  the 
girl  very  much  older.  If  it  were  possible  to  fix  the  girl  to  her 
sick  bed,  and  preserve  the  portion,  the  use  of  which  the  mother 
partakes,  the  good  widow  Flavia  would  certainly  do  it.  But 
for  fear  of  Lucia's  escape,  the  mother  is  forced  to  be  constantly 
attended  with  a  rival,  that  explains  her  age,  and  draws  off  the 
eyes  of  her  admirers.  The  jest  is,  they  can  never  be  together 
in  stranger's  company,  but  Lucia  is  eternally  reprimanded  for 
something  very  particular  in  her  behaviour  ;  for  which  she  has 
the  malice  to  say,  "she  hopes  she  shall  always  obey  her 
parents."  She  carried  her  passion  jealously  to  that  height  the 
other  day,  that  coming  suddenly  into  the  room,  and  surprising 
colonel  Lofty  speaking  rapture  on  one  knee  to  her  mother,  she 
clapped  down  by  him  and  asked  her  blessing. 

1  do  not  know  whether  it  is  so  proper  to  tell  family  occur- 
rences of  this  nature  ;  but  we  every  day  see  the  same  thing 
happen  in  public  conversation  of  the  world.  Men  cannot  be 
contented  with  what  is  laudable,  but  they  must  have  all  that 
is  laudable.  This  affectation  is  what  decoys  the  familiar  man 
into  pretences  to  take  state  upon  him,  and  the  contrary 
character  to  the  folly  of  aiming  at  being  winning  and  com- 
plaisant. But  in  these  cases  men  may  easily  lay  aside  what 
they  are,  but  can  never  arrive  at  what  they  are  not. 

As  to  the  pursuits  after  affection  and  esteem,  the  fair  sex 
are  happy  in  this  particular,  that  with  them  the  one  is  much 
more  nearly  related  to  the  other  than  in  men.  The  love  of  a 
woman  is  inseparable  from  some  esteem  of  her  ;  and  as  she  is 
naturally  the  object  of  affection,  the  woman  who  has  your 
esteem  has  also  some  degree  of  your  love.  A  man  that  dotes 
on  a  woman  for  a  beauty,  will  whisper  his  friend,  "  that  creature 
has  a  great  deal  of  wit  when  you  are   well  acquainted  with 


342  THE    TATLER.  [No.  207. 

her."  And  if  you  examine  the  bottom  of  your  esteem  for  a 
woman,  you  will  find  you  have  a  greater  opinion  of  her  beauty 
than  any  body  else.  As  to  us  men,  I  design  to  pass  most  of 
my  time  with  the  facetious  Harry  Bickerstalf;  but  William 
BickerstafP,  the  most  prudent  man  of  our  family,  shall  be  my 
executor. 


THE  THEEE  NEPHEWS. 

No.  207.    SATURDAY,  August  5,  1710.     [Steele.] 

Having  yesterday  morning  received  a  paper  of  Latin  verses, 
written  with  much  elegance  in  honour  of  these  my  papers,  and 
being  informed  at  the  same  time,  that  they  were  composed  by 
a  youth  under  age,  I  read  them  with  much  delight,  as  an 
instance  of  his  improvement.  There  is  not  a  greater  pleasure  to 
old  age,  than  feeling  young  people  entertain  themselves  in  such 
a  manner  as  that  we  can  partake  of  their  enjoyments.  On  such 
occasions  we  flatter  ourselves,  that  we  are  not  quite  laid  aside 
in  the  world  ;  but  that  we  are  either  used  with  gratitude  for 
what  we  were,  or  honoured  for  what  we  are.  A  well-inclined 
young  man,  and  whose  good  breeding  is  founded  upon  the  prin- 
ciples of  nature  and  virtue,  must  needs  take  delight  in  being 
agreeable  to  his  elders,  as  we  are  truly  delighted  when  we  are 
not  the  jest  of  them.  When  I  say  this,  I  must  confess  I  can- 
not but  think  it  a  very  lamentable  thing,  that  there  should  be 
a  necessity  for  making  that  a  rule  of  life,  which  should  be, 
methinks,  a  mere  instinct  of  nature.  If  reflection  upon  a  man 
in  poverty,  whom  we  once  knew  in  riches,  is  an  argument  of 
commiseration  with  generous  minds  ;  sure  old  age,  which  a 
decay  from  that  vigour  which  the  young  possess,  and  must  cer- 
tainly, if  not  prevented  against  their  will,  arrive  at,  should  be 
more  forcibly  the  object  of  that  reverence,  which  honest  spirits 
are  inclined  to,  from  a  sense  of  being  themselves  liable  to  what 
they  observe  has  already  overtaken  others. 

My  three  nephews,  whom,  in  June  last  ivas  hvelmmonfh,  I 


No.  207.]  THE    THREE    NEPHEWS.  343 

disposed  of  according  to  their  several  capacities  and  inclina- 
tions ;  the  first  to  the  university,  the  second  to  a  merchant, 
and  the  third  to  a  woman  of  quality  as  her  page,  by  my  invita- 
tation  dined  with  me  to-day.  It  is  my  custom  often,  when  I 
have  a  mind  to  give  myself  a  more  than  ordinary  cheerfulness, 
to  invite  a  certain  young  gentlewoman  of  our  neighbourhood 
to  make  one  of  the  company.  She  did  me  that  favour  this  day. 
The  presence  of  a  beautiful  woman  of  honour,  to  minds  which 
are  not  trivially  disposed,  displays  an  alacrity  which  is  not  to 
be  communicated  by  any  other  object.  It  was  not  unpleasant 
to  me,  to  look  into  her  thoughts  of  tlie  company  she  was  in. 
8he  smiled  at  the  party  of  pleasure  I  had  thought  of  for  her, 
which  was  composed  of  an  old  man  and  three  boys.  My 
scholar,  my  citizen,  and  myself,  were  very  soon  neglected  ;  and 
the  young  courtier,  by  the  bow  he  made  to  her  at  her  entrance, 
engaged  her  observation  without  a  rival. 

I  observed  the  Oxonian  not  a  little  discomposed  at  this  pre- 
ference, while  the  trader  kept  his  eye  upon  his  uncle.  My  nephew 
Will  had  a  thousand  secret  resolutions  to  break  in  upon  the  dis- 
course of  his  younger  brother,  who  gave  my  fair  companion  a  full 
account  of  the  fashion,  and  what  was  reckoned  most  becoming 
to  this  complexion,  and  what  sort  of  habit  appeared  best  upon 
the  other  shape.  He  proceeded  to  acquaint  her,  who  of  quality 
was  well  or  sick  within  the  bills  of  mortality,  and  named  very 
familiarly  all  his  lady's  acquaintance,  not  forgetting  her  very 
words  when  he  spoke  of  their  characters.  Besides  all  this,  he 
had  a  road  of  flattery  ;  and  upon  her  inquiring,  what  sort  of 
woman  lady  Lovely  was  in  her  person,  "  Really,  Madam,"  says 
the  Jackanapes,  "  she  is  exactly  of  your  height  and  shape  ;  but 
as  you  are  fair,  she  is  a  brown  woman."  There  was  no  endur- 
ing that  this  fop  should  outshine  us  all  at  this  unmerciful  rate  ; 
therefore  I  thought  fit  to  talk  to  my  young  scholar  concerning 
his  studies  ;  and  because  I  would  throw  his  learning  into 
present  service,  I  desired  him  to  repeat  to  me  the  translation 
he  had  made  of  some  tender  verses  in  Theocritus.  He  did  so, 
with  an  air  of  elegance  peculiar  to  the  college  to  which  I  sent 
him.     T  made  some  exceptions  to  the  turn  of  the  phrases ; 

A  A 


344  THE    TATLER.  [No.  207. 

which  he  defended  with  much  modesty,  as  beh'eving  in  that 
place  the  matter  was  rather  to  consult  the  softness  of  a  swain's 
passion,  than  the  strength  of  his  expressions.  It  soon 
appeared,  that  Will  had  outstripped  his  brother  in  the  opinion 
of  our  young  lady.  A  little  poetry,  to  one  who  is  bred  a  scholar, 
has  the  same  effect  that  a  good  carriage  of  his  person  has  on  one 
who  is  to  live  in  courts.  The  favour  of  women  is  so  natural 
a  passion,  that  I  envied  both  the  boys  their  success  m  the 
approbation  of  my  guest;  and  I  thought  the  only  person 
invulnerable  was  my  young  trader.  During  the  whole  meal, 
I  could  observe  in  the  children  a  mutual  contempt  and  scorn 
of  each  other,  arising  from  their  different  way  of  life  and  educa- 
tion, and  took  that  occasion  to  advertise  them  of  such  growing 
distastes  ;  which  might  mislead  them  in  their  future  life,  and 
disappoint  their  friends,  as  Avell  as  themselves,  of  the  advantages, 
which  might  be  expected  from  the  diversity  of  their  professions 
and  interests. 

The  prejudices,  which  are  growing  up  between  these  brothers 
fi'om  the  different  ways  of  education,  are  what  create  the  most 
fatal  misunderstandings  in  life.  But  all  distinctions  of  dispar- 
agement, merely  from  our  circumstances,  are  such  as  will  not 
bear  the  examination  of  reason.  The  courtier,  the  trader,  and  the 
scholar,  should  all  have  an  equal  pretension  to  the  denomina- 
tion of  a  gentleman.  That  tradesman,  who  deals  with  me  in  a 
commodity  which  I  do  not  understand,  with  uprightness,  has 
much  more  right  to  that  character,  than  the  courtier  that  gives 
me  false  hopes,  or  the  scholar  who  laughs  at  my  ignorance. 

The  appellation  of  gentleman  is  never  to  be  affixed  to  a 
man's  circumstances,  but  to  his  behaviour  in  them.  For  this 
reason  I  shall  ever,  as  far  as  I  am  able,  give  my  nephews  such 
impressions  as  shall  make  them  value  themselves  rather  as  they 
are  useful  to  others,  than  as  they  are  conscious  of  merit  in 
themselves.  There  are  no  qualities  for  which  we  ought  to 
pretend  to  the  esteem  of  others,  but  such  as  render  us  service- 
able to  them  :  for  free  men  have  no  superiors  but  benefactors. 


No.  208.]  FLATTERY    AS    AN    ART.  345 

FLATTERY  AS  AN  ART. 

No.  208.    TUESDAY,  August  8,  1710.    [Steele.] 

Si  dixeris  asstuo,  sudat. Juv.  Sat.  iii.  103. 

If  you  complain  of  heat, 


They  rub  th'  unsweating  brow,  and  swear  they  sweat. 

An  old  acquaintance,  who  met  me  this  morning,  seemed 
overjoyed  to  see  me,  and  told  me  I  looked  as  well  as  he  had 
known  me  do  these  forty  years:  "but,"  continued  he,  "not 
quite  the  man  you  were,  when  we  visited  together  at  lady 
Brightly's.  Oh  !  Isaac,  those  days  are  over.  Do  you  think 
there  are  any  such  fine  creatures  now  living,  as  we  then  con- 
versed with  ? "  He  went  on  with  a  thousand  incoherent  circum- 
stances, which,  in  his  imagination,  must  needs  please  me ;  but 
they  had  the  quite  contrary  effect.  The  flattery  with  which 
he  began,  in  telling  me  how  well  I  wore,  was  not  disagreeable  ; 
but  his  indiscreet  mention  of  a  set  of  acquaintance  we  had  out- 
lived, recalled  ten  thousand  things  to  my  memory,  which  made 
me  reflect  upon  my  present  condition  with  regret.  Had  he 
indeed  been  so  kind  as,  after  a  long  absence,  to  felicitate  me 
upon  au  indolent  and  easy  old  age ;  and  mentioned  how  much 
he  and  I  had  to  thank  for,  who  at  our  time  of  day  could  walk 
firmly,  eat  heartily,  and  converse  cheerfully,  he  had  kept  up  my 
pleasure  in  myself.  But  of  all  mankind,  there  are  none  so 
shocking  as  these  injudicious  civil  people.  They  ordinarily 
begin  upon  something,  that  they  know  must  be  a  satisfaction  ; 
but  then,  for  fear  of  the  imputation  of  flattery,  they  follow  it 
with  the  last  thing  in  the  world  of  which  you  would  be 
reminded.  It  is  this  that  perplexes  civil  persons.  The  reason 
that  there  is  such  a  general  outcry  among  us  against  flatterers 
is,  that  there  are  so  very  few  good  ones.  It  is  the  nicest  art 
in  this  life,  and  is  a  part  of  eloquence  whicli  does  not  want  the 
preparation  that  is  necessary  to  all  other  parts  of  it,  that  your 
audience  should  be  your  well-wishers :  for  praise  from  an 
enemy  is  the  most  pleasing  of  all  commendations. 

A  A   2 


346  THE    TATLER.  [JSfo.  208. 

It  is  generally  to  be  observed,  that  the  person  most  agree- 
able to  a  man  for  a  constancy  is  he  that  has  no  shining 
qualities,  but  is  a  certain  degree  above  great  imperfections ; 
whom  he  can  live  with  as  his  inferior,  and  who  will  either 
overlook,  or  not  observe  his  little  defects.  Such  an  easy  com- 
panion as  this  either  now  and  then  throws  out  a  little  flattery, 
or  lets  a  man  silently  flatter  himself  in  his  superiority  to 
him.  If  you  take  notice,  there  is  hardly  a  rich  man  in  the 
world,  who  has  not  such  a  led  friend  of  small  consideration, 
who  is  a  darling  for  his  insignificancy.  It  is  a  great  ease  to 
have  one  in  our  own  shape  a  species  below  us,  and  who,  without 
being  lifted  in  our  service,  is  by  nature  of  our  retinue.  These 
dependents  are  of  excellent  use  on  a  rainy  day,  or  when  a  man 
has  not  a  mind  to  dress ;  or  to  exclude  sohtude,  when  one  has 
neither  a  mind  to  that  or  to  company.  There  are  of  this  good- 
natured  order,  who  are  so  kind  as  to  divide  themselves,  and 
do  these  good  offices  to  many.  Five  or  six  of  them  visit  a 
whole  quarter  of  the  town,  and  exclude  the  spleen,  without 
fees,  from  the  families  they  frequent.  If  they  do  not  prescribe 
physic,  they  can  be  company  when  you  take  it.  Very  great 
benefactors  to  the  rich,  or  those  whom  they  call  people  at  their 
ease,  are  your  persons  of  no  consequence.  I  have  known  some 
of  them,  by  the  help  of  a  little  cunning,  make  delicious 
flatterers.  They  know  the  course  of  the  town,  and  the  general 
characters  of  persons  :  by  this  means  they  will  sometimes  tell  the 
most  agreeable  falsehoods  imaginable.  They  will  acquaint  you, 
that  such  a  one  of  a  quite  contrary  party  said,  "  That  though 
you  were  engaged  in  different  interests,  yet  he  had  the  greatest 
respect  for  your  good  sense  and  address."  When  one  of  these 
has  a  little  cunning,  he  passes  his  time  in  the  utmost  satisfac- 
tion to  himself  and  his  friends  :  for  his  position,  is  never  to 
report  or  speak  a  displeasing  thing  to  his  friend.  As  for 
lettinc  him  go  on  in  an  error,  he  knows,  advice  against  them 
is  the  office  of  persons  of  greater  talents  and  less  discretion. 

The  Latin  word  for  a  flatterer,  assentator,  implies  no  more 
than  a  person  that  barely  consents  ;  and  indeed  such  a  one,  if 
a  man  were  able  to  purchase  or  maintain  him, cannot  be  bought 


No.  208.]  FLATTERY    AS    AN    ART.  347 

too  dear.  Such  a  one  never  contradicts  you  ;  but  gains  upon 
you,  not  by  a  fulsome  way  of  commending  yon  in  broad  terms, 
but  liking  whatever  yon  propose  or  utter  ;  at  the  same  time, 
is  ready  to  beg  your  pardon,  and  gainsay  you,  if  you  chance  to 
speak  ill  of  yourself.  An  old  lady  is  very  seldom  without  such 
a  companion  as  this,  who  can  recite  the  names  of  all  her  lovers, 
and  the  matches  refused  by  her  in  the  days  when  she  minded  such 
vanities,  as  she  is  pleased  to  call  them,  though  she  so  much 
approves  the  mention  of  them.  It  is  to  be  noted,  that  a 
woman's  flatterer  is  generally  elder  than  herself ;  her  years 
serving  at  once  to  recommend  her  patroness's  age,  and  to  add 
weight  to  her  complaisance  in  all  other  particulars. 

AYe  gentlemen  of  small  fortunes  are  extremely  necessitous 
in  this  particular.  I  have  indeed  one  who  smokes  with  me 
^  often ;  but  his  parts  are  so  low,  that  all  the  incense  he  does  me  is 
'  to  fill  his  pipe  with  me,  and  to  be  out  at  just  as  many  whiffs 
as  I  take.  This  is  all  the  praise  or  assent  that  he  is  capable 
of ;  yet  there  are  more  hours  when  I  would  rather  be  in  his 
company,  than  in  that  of  the  brightest  man  I  know.  It  would 
be  an  hard  matter  to  give  an  account  of  this  inclination  to  be 
flattered  ;  but  if  we  go  to  the  bottom  of  it,  we  shall  find,  that 
the  pleasure  in  it  is  something  like  that  of  receiving  money 
which  lay  out.  Every  man  thinks  he  has  an  estate  of  reputa- 
tion, and  is  glad  to  see  one  that  will  bring  any  of  it  home  to 
him.  It  is  no  matter  how  dirty  a  bag  it  is  conveyed  to  him 
in,  or  by  how  clownish  a  messenger,  so  the  money  be  good. 
All  that  we  want,  to  be  pleased  with  flattery,  is  to  beUeve  that 
the  man  is  sincere  who  gives  it  us.  It  is  by  this  one  accident, 
that  absurd  creatures  often  out-run  the  most  skilful  in  this  art. 
Their  want  of  ability  is  here  an  advantage ;  and  their 
bluntness,  as  it  is  the  seeming  effect  of  sincerity,  is  the  best 
cover  to  artifice. 

Terence  introduces  a  flatterer  talking  to  a  coxcomb,  whom 
he  cheats  out  of  a  livelihood  ;  and  a  third  person  on  the  stage 
makes  on  him  this  pleasant  remark,  "  This  fellow  has  an  art 
of  making  fools  madmen."  The  love  of  flattery  is,  indeed, 
sometim.es  the  weakness  of  a  great  mind  ;  but  you  see  it  also 


348  THE    TATLER.  [No.  208. 

in  persons,  who  otherwise  discover  no  manner  of  relish  of  any 
thing  above  mere  sensuality.  These  latter  it  sometimes  im- 
proves j  but  always  debases  the  former.  A  fool  is  in  himself 
the  object  of  pity,  until  he  is  flattered.  By  the  force  of  that, 
his  stupidity  is  raised  into  affectation,  and  he  becomes  of  dig- 
nity enough  to  be  ridiculous.  I  remember  a  droll,  that  upon 
one's  saying,  ''  The  times  are  so  ticklish,  that  there  must  great 
care  be  taken  what  one  says  in  conversation ; "  answered  with 
an  air  of  surliness  and  honesty,  "  If  people  will  be  free,  let  them 
be  so  in  the  manner  that  I  am,  who  never  abuse  a  man  but  to 
his  face."  He  had  no  reputation  for  saying  dangerous  truths ; 
therefore  when  it  was  repeated,  "  You  abuse  a  man  but  to  his 
face  ?  "     "  Yes,"  says  he,  "  I  flatter  him." 

It  is  indeed  the  greatest  of  injuries  to  flatter  any  but  the 
unhappy,  or  such  as  are  displeased  with  themselves  for  some 
infirmity.  In  this  latter  case  we  have  a  member  of  our  club, 
who,  when  Sir  Jeffery  falls  asleep,  wakens  him  with  snoring. 
This  makes  Sir  Jeffery  hold  up  for  some  moments  the  longer 
to  see  there  are  men  younger  than  himself  among  us,  who  are 
more  lethargic  than  he  is. 

When  flattery  is  practised  upon  any  other  consideration,  it 
is  the  most  abject  thing  in  nature  ;  nay,  I  cannot  think  of  any 
character  below  the  flatterer,  except  he  that  envies  him.  You 
meet  with  fellows,  prepared  to  be  as  mean  as  possible  in  their 
condescensions  and  expressions;  but  they  want  persons  and 
talents  to  rise  up  to  such  a  baseness.  As  a  coxcomb  is  a  fool  of 
parts,  so  is  a  flatterer  a  knave  of  parts. 

The  best  of  this  order,  that  I  know,  is  one  who  disguises  it 
under  a  spirit  of  contradiction  or  reproof.  He  told  an  arrant 
driveller  the  other  day,  that  he  did  not  care  for  being  in  com- 
pany with  him,  because  he  heard  he  turned  his  absent  friends 
into  ridicule.  And  upon  lady  Autumn's  disputing  with  him 
about  something  that  happened  at  the  Revolution,  he  replied 
with  a  very  angry  tone,  "  Pray,  madam,  give  me  leave  to  know 
more  of  a  thing  in  which  I  was  actually  concerned,  than  you 
who  were  then  in  your  nurse's  arms." 


Xo.  209.J  A    HISTORY    TIEOE.  .349 

A  HISTOEY  PIECE. 

No.  209.    SATURDAY,  August  10,  1710.    [Steele.] 

A  NOBLE  painter,  who  has  an  ambition  to  draw  a  history 
piece,  has  desired  me  to  give  him  a  subject,  on  which  he  may 
shew  the  utmost  force  of  his  art  and  genius.  For  this  purpose, 
I  have  pitched  upon  that  remarkable  incident  between 
Alexander  the  Great  and  his  physician.  This  prince,  in  the 
midst  of  his  conquests  in  Persia,  was  seized  by  a  violent  fever  ; 
and,  according  to  the  account  we  have  of  his  vast  mind, 
his  thoughts  were  more  employed  about  his  recovery,  as 
it  regarded  the  war,  than  as  it  concerned  his  own  life.  He 
professed,  a  slow  method  was  worse  than  death  to  him ; 
because  it  was,  what  he  more  dreaded,  an  interruption  of  his 
glory.  He  desired  a  dangerous,  so  it  might  be  a  speedy 
remedy.  During  this  impatience  of  the  king,  it  is  well  known 
that  Darius  had  offered  an  immense  sum  to  any  one  who  should 
take  away  his  life.  But  Philippus,  the  most  esteemed  and 
most  knowing  of  his  physicians,  promised,  that  within  three 
days'  time  he  would  prepare  a  medicine  for  him,  which  should 
restore  him  more  expeditiously  than  could  be  imagined.  Im- 
mediately after  this  engagement,  Alexander  receives  a  letter 
from  the  most  considerable  of  his  captains,  with  intelligence 
that  Darius  had  bribed  Philippus  to  poison  him.  Every  cir- 
cumstance imaginable  favoured  this  suspicion ;  but  this 
monarch,  who  did  nothing  but  in  an  extraordinary  manner, 
concealed  the  letter  ;  and,  while  the  medicine  was  preparing, 
spent  all  his  thoughts  upon  his  behaviour  in  this  important 
incident.  From  his  long  soliloquy,  he  came  to  this  resolution  : 
*  Alexander  must  not  lie  here  alive  to  be  oppressed  by  his 
enemy.  I  will  not  believe  my  physician  guilty  ;  or,  I  will 
perish  rather  by  his  guilt,  than  my  own  diffidence.' 

At  the  appointed  hour,  Philippus  enters  with  the  potion. 
One  cannot  but  form  to  one's  self  on  this  occasion  the  en- 
counter of  their  eye?,  the  resolution  in  those  of  the  patient, 


350  THE    TATLER.  [No.  209. 

and  the  benevolence  in  the  countenance  of  the  physician.  The 
hero  raised  himself  in  his  bed,  and,  holding  the  letter  in  one 
hand,  and  the  potion  in  the  other,  drank  the  medicine.  It 
will  exercise  my  friend's  pencil  and  brain  to  place  this  action 
in  its  proper  beauty.  A  prince  observing  the  features  of  a 
suspected  traitor,  after  having  drunk  the  poison  he  offered  him, 
is  a  circumstance  so  full  of  passion,  that  it  will  require  the 
highest  strength  of  his  imagination  to  conceive  it,  much  more 
to  express  it.  But  as  painting  is  eloquence  and  poetry  in 
mechanism,  I  shall  raise  his  ideas,  by  reading  with  him  the 
finest  draughts  of  the  passions  concerned  in  this  circumstance, 
from  the  most  excellent  poets  and  orators.  The  confidence, 
which  Alexander  assumes  from  the  air  of  Philippus's  face  as 
he  is  reading  his  accusation,  and  the  generous  disdain  which 
is  to  rise  in  the  features  of  a  falsely  accused  man,  are  princi- 
pally to  be  regarded.  In  this  particular  he  must  heighten  his 
thoughts,  by  reflecting,  that,  he  is  not  drawing  only  an  inno- 
cent man  traduced,  but  a  man  zealously  affected  to  his  person 
and  safety,  full  of  resentment  for  being  thought  false.  How 
shall  we  contrive  to  express  the  highest  admiration,  mingled 
with  disdain  ?  How  shall  we  in  strokes  of  a  pencil  say,  what 
Philippus  did  to  his  prince  on  this  occasion  ?  '  kSir,  my  life 
never  depended  on  yours  more  than  it  does  now.  Without 
knowing  this  secret,  I  prepared  the  potion,  which  you  have 
taken  as  what  concerned  Philippus  no  less  than  Alexander  ; 
and  there  is  nothing  new  in  this  adventure,  but  that  it  makes 
me  still  more  admire  the  generosity  and  confidence  of  my 
master.'  Alexander  took  him  by  the  hand,  and  said, '  Philippus, 
I  am  confident  you  had  rather  I  had  any  other  way  to  have 
manifested  the  faith  I  have  in  you,  than  a  case  which  so  nearly 
concerns  me :  and  in  gratitude  I  now  assure  you,  I  am 
anxious  for  the  effect  of  your  medicine,  more  for  your  sake 
than  my  own.' 

My  painter  is  employed  by  a  man  of  sense  and  wealth  to 
furnish  him  a  gallery  ;  and  I  shall  join  with  my  friend  in  the 
designing  part.  It  is  the  great  use  of  pictures,  to  raise  in  our 
minds  either  agreeable  ideas  of  our  a])sent  friends  ;  or  high 


No.  209.]  A    HISTORY    PIECE.  361 

images  of  eminent  personages.  But  the  latter  design  is,  me- 
thinks,  carried  on  in  a  very  improper  way ;  for  to  fill  a  room 
full  of  battle-pieces,  pompous  histories  of  sieges,  and  a  tall 
hero  alone  in  a  crowd  of  insignificant  figures  about  him,  is  of 
no  consequence  to  private  men.  But  to  place  before  our  eyes 
great  and  illustrious  men  in  those  parts  and  circumstances  of 
life,  wherein  their  behaviour  may  have  an  eifect  upon  our 
minds  ;  as  being  such  as  we  partake  with  them  merely  as  they 
were  men  :  such  as  these,  I  say,  may  be  just  and  useful  orna- 
ments of  an  elegant  apartment.  In  this  collection  therefore 
that  we  are  making,  we  will  not  have  the  battles,  but  the 
sentiments  of  Alexander.  The  affair  we  were  just  now  speak- 
ing of  has  circumstances  of  tlie  highest  nature  ;  and  yet  their 
grandeur  has  little  to  do  with  his  fortune.  If,  by  observing 
such  a  piece,  as  that  of  his  taking  a  bowl  of  poison  with  so 
much  magnanimity,  a  man,  the  next  time  he  has  a  fit  of  the 
spleen,  is  less  fro  ward  to  his  friend  or  his  servants  ;  thus  far  is 
some  improvement. 

I  have  frequently  thought,  that  if  we  had  many  draughts 
which  were  historical  of  certain  passions,  and  had  the  true 
figure  of  the  great  men  we  see  transported  by  them,  it  would 
be  of  the  most  solid  advantage  imaginable.  To  consider  this 
mighty  man  on  one  occasion,  administering  to  the  wants  of  a 
poor  soldier  benumbed  with  cold,  with  the  greatest  humanity  ; 
at  another,  barbarously  stabbing  a  faithful  officer  :  at  one  time, 
so  generously  chaste  and  virtuous  as  to  give  his  captive  Statira 
her  liberty  ;  at  another,  burning  a  town  at  the  instigation  of 
Thais.  These  changes  in  the  same  person  are  what  would  be 
more  beneficial  lessons  of  morality,  than  the  several  revolutions 
in  a  great  man's  fortune.  There  are  but  one  or  two  in  an  age, 
to  whom  the  pompous  incidents  of  his  life  can  be  exemplary  ; 
but  I,  or  any  man,  may  be  as  sick,  as  good-natured,  as  com- 
passionate, and  as  angry,  as  Alexander  the  G-reat.  My  purpose 
in  all  this  chat  is,  that  so  excellent  a  furniture  may  not  for  the 
future  have  so  romantic  a  turn,  but  allude  to  incidents  which 
come  within  the  fortunes  of  the  ordinary  race  of  men.  I  do 
not  know  but  it  is  by  the  force  of  this  senseless  custom,  that 


352  THE    TATLER.  [No.  211. 

people  are  drawn  in  postures  they  would  not  for  half  they  are 
worth  be  surprised  in.  The  unparalleled  fierceness  of  some 
rural  esquires  drawn  in  red,  or  in  armour,  who  never  dreamed 
to  destroy  any  thing  above  a  fox,  is  a  common  and  ordinary 
ofiFence  of  this  kind.  But  I  shall  give  an  account  of  our  whole 
gallery  on  another  occasion. 


DEVOTION. 

No.  211.    THURSDAY,  August  15,  1710.     [Steele.] 

Nequeo  monstrare,  et  sentio  tantum. 

JuY.  Sat.  vii.  56. 

What  I  can  fancy,  but  can  ne'er  express. 

If  there  were  no  other  consequences  of  it,  but  barely  that 
human  creatures  on  this  day  assemble  themselves  before  their 
Creator,  without  regard  to  their  usual  employments,  their 
minds  at  leisure  from  the  cares  of  this  life,  and  their 
bodies  adorned  with  the  best  attire  they  can  bestow  upon 
them  ;  I  say,  were  this  mere  outward  celebration  of  the 
Sabbath  all  that  is  expected  from  men,  even  that  were  a  laud- 
able distinction,  and  a  purpose  worthy  the  human  nature. 
But  when  there  is  added  to  it  the  sublime  pleasure  of  devotion, 
our  being  is  exalted  above  itself ;  and  he,  who  spends  a  seventh 
day  in  the  contemplation  of  the  next  life,  will  not  easily  fall 
into  the  corruptions  of  this  in  the  other  six.  They,  who  never 
admit  thoughts  of  this  kind  into  their  imaginations,  lose 
higher  and  sweeter  satisfaction  than  can  be  raised  by  any 
other  entertainment.  The  most  illiterate  man  who  is  touched 
with  devotion,  and  uses  frequent  exercises  of  it,  contracts  a 
certain  greatness  of  mind,  mingled  with  a  noble  simplicity, 
that  raises  him  above  those  of  the  same  condition  ;  and 
there  is  an  indelible  mark  of  goodness  in  those  who  sincerely 
possess  it.  It  is  hardly  possible  it  should  be  otherwise ;  for 
the  fervours  of  a  pious  mind  will  naturally  contract  such  an 


No.  211.]  DEVOTION.  363 

earnestness  and  attention  towards  a  better  being,  as  will  make 
the  ordinary  passages  of  life  go  off  with  a  becoming  indifference. 
By  this  a  man  in  the  lowest  condition  will  not  appear  mean, 
or  in  the  most  splendid  fortune  insolent. 

As  to  all  the  intricacies  and  vicissitudes,  under  which  men 
are  ordinarily  entangled  with  the  utmost  sorrow  and  passion, 
one  who  is  devoted  to  heaven  when  he  falls  into  such  diffi- 
culties, is  led  by  a  clue  through  a  labyrinth.  As  to  this  world, 
he  does  not  pretend  to  skill  in  the  mazes  of  it ;  but  fixes  his 
thoughts  upon  one  certainty,  that  he  shall  soon  be  out  of  it. 
And  we  may  ask  very  boldly,  what  can  be  a  more  sure  consola- 
tion than  to  have  an  hope  in  death  ?  When  men  are  arrived 
at  thinking  of  their  very  dissolution  with  pleasure,  how  few 
things  are  there  that  can  be  terrible  to  them  !  Certainly, 
nothing  can  be  dreadful  to  such  spirits,  but  what  would  make 
death  terrible  to  them,  falsehood  towards  man,  or  impiety 
towards  heaven.  To  such  as  these,  as  there  are  certainly 
many  such,  the  gratifications  of  innocent  pleasures  are  doubled, 
even  with  reflections  upon  their  imperfection.  The  disap- 
pointments which  naturally  attend  the  great  promises  we  make 
ourselves  in  expected  enjoyments,  strike  no  damp  upon  such 
men,  but  only  quicken  their  hopes  of  soon  knowing  joys,  which 
are  too  pure  to  admit  of  allay  or  satiety. 

It  is  thought,  among  the  politer  sort  of  mankind,  an  imper- 
fection to  want  a  relish  of  any  of  those  things  which  refine  our 
lives.  This  is  the  foundation  of  the  acceptance  which 
eloquence,  music,  and  poetry  make  in  the  world  ;  and  I  know 
not  why  devotion,  considered  merely  as  an  exaltation  of  our 
happiness,  should  not  at  least  be  so  far  regarded  as  to  be  con- 
sidered. It  is  possible,  the  very  inquiry  would  lead  men  into 
such  thoughts  and  gratifications,  as  they  did  not  expect  to 
meet  with  in  this  place.  Many  a  good  acquaintance  has  been 
lost  from  a  general  prepossession  in  his  disfavour,  and  a  severe 
aspect  has  often  hid  under  it  a  very  agreeable  companion. 

There  are  no  distinguishing  qualities  among  men  to  which 
there  are  not  false  pretenders  ;  but  though  none  is  more  pre- 
tended  to   than  that  of  devotion,  there  are,  perhaps,  fewer 


354  THE    TATLER.  [No.  211. 

successful  impostors  in  this  kind  than  any  other.  There  is 
something  so  natively  great  and  good  in  a  person  that  is  truly 
devout,  that  an  awkward  man  may  as  well  pretend  to  be 
genteel,  as  an  hypocrite  to  be  pious.  The  constraint  in  words 
and  actions  are  equally  visible  in  both  cases  ;  and  anything  set 
up  in  their  room  does  but  remove  the  endeavours  farther  off 
from  their  pretensions.  But,  however,  the  sense  of  true  piety 
is  abated,  there  is  no  other  motive  of  action  that  can  carry  us 
through  all  the  vicissitudes  of  life  with  alacrity  and  resolution. 
But  piety,  like  philosophy,  when  it  is  superficial,  does  but  make 
men  appear  the  worse  for  it ;  and  a  principle  that  is  but  half 
received  does  but  distract,  instead  of  guiding  our  behaviour. 
When  I  reflect  upon  the  unequal  conduct  of  Lotius,  I  see  many 
things  that  run  directly  counter  to  his  interest ;  therefore  I 
cannot  attribute  his  labours  for  the  public  good  to  ambition. 
When  I  consider  his  disregard  to  his  fortune,  I  cannot  esteem 
him  covetous.  How  then  can  I  reconcile  his  neglect  of  him- 
self, and  his  zeal  for  others  ?  I  have  long  suspected  him  to 
be  a  "little  pious  : "  but  no  man  ever  hid  his  vice  with  greater 
caution,  than  he  does  his  virtue.  It  was  the  praise  of  a  great 
Roman,  "  that  he  had  rather  be,  than  appear,  good."  But  such 
is  the  weakness  of  Lotius,  that  I  dare  say,  he  had  rather  be 
esteemed  irreligious  than  devout.  By  I  know  not  what  im- 
patience of  raillery,  he  is  wonderfully  fearful  of  being  thought 
too  great  a  believer.  A  hundred  little  devices  are  made  use  of 
to  hide  a  time  of  private  devotion  ;  and  he  will  allow  you  any 
suspicion  of  his  being  ill  employed,  so  you  do  not  tax  him  with 
being  well.  But,  alas !  how  mean  is  such  a  behaviour  ?  To 
boast  of  virtue  is  a  most  ridiculous  way  of  disappointing  the 
merit  of  it,  but  not  so  pitiful  as  that  of  being  ashamed  of  it. 
How  unhappy  is  the  wretch,  who  makes  the  most  absolute  and 
independent  motive  of  action  the  cause  of  perplexity  and  in- 
constancy I  How  different  a  figure  does  Calicolo  *  make  with 
all  who  know  him  !     His  great  and  superior  mind,  frequently 

*  This  appears  to  be  one  of  Steele's  political  papers,  in  which  his  principal 
design  seems  to  have  been  to  contrast  the  character  of  Harley,  afterwards 
Lord  Oxford,  the  Treasurer  then  in  office,  with  that  of  Lord  Godolphin,  who 
was  Harley's  immediate  predecessor. 


No.  211.]  DEVOTIOX.  355 

exalted  by  the  raptures  of  heavenly  meditation,  is  to  all  his 
friends  of  the  same  use,  as  if  an  angel  were  to  appear  at  the 
decision  of  tlieir  disputes.  They  very  well  understand,  he  is  as 
much  disinterested  and  unbiassed  as  such  a  being.  He  con- 
siders all  applications  made  to  him,  as  those  addresses  will 
affect  his  own  application  to  heaven.  All  his  determinations 
are  delivered  with  a  beautiful  humility  ;  and  he  pronounces 
his  decisions  with  the  air  of  one  who  is  more  frequently  a 
supplicant  than  a  judge. 

Thus  humble,  and  thus  great,  is  the  man  who  is  moved  by 
piety,  and  exalted  by  devotion.  But  behold  this  recommended 
by  the  masterly  hand  of  a  great  divine  I  have  heretofore  made 
bold  with.* 

"  It  is  such  a  pleasure  as  can  never  cloy  or  overwork  the 
mind  ;  a  delight  that  grows  and  improves  under  thought  and 
reflection  ;  and  while  it  exercises,  does  also  endear  itself  to  the 
mind.  All  pleasures  that  affect  the  body  must  needs  weary, 
because  they  transport ;  and  all  transportation  is  a  violence  ; 
and  no  violence  can  be  lasting  ;  but  determines  upon  the 
falling  of  the  spirits,  which  are  not  able  to  keep  up  that  height 
of  motion  that  the  pleasure  of  the  senses  raises  them  to.  And 
therefore  how  inevitably  does  an  immoderate  laughter  end  in  a 
sigh,  which  is  only  nature's  recovering  itself  after  a  force  done 
to  it :  but  the  religious  pleasure  of  a  well-disposed  mind  moves 
gently,  and  therefore  constantly.  It  does  not  affect  by  rapture 
and  ecstasy,  but  is  like  the  pleasure  of  health,  greater  and 
stronger  than  those  that  call  up  the  senses  with  grosser  and 
more  affecting  impressions.  No  man's  body  is  as  strong  as 
his  appetites  ;  but  Heaven  has  corrected  the  boundlessness  of 
his  voluptuous  desires  by  stinting  his  strength,  and  contracting 
his  capacities. — The  pleasure  of  the  religious  man  is  an  easy 
and  a  portable  pleasure,  such  an  one  as  he  carries  about  in  his 
bosom,  without  alarming  either  the  eye  or  the  envy  of  the 
world.  A  man  putting  all  his  pleasures  into  this  one,  is  like 
a  traveller  putting  all  his  goods  into  one  jewel ;  the  value  is 
the  same,  and  the  convenience  greater." 

*  Dr.  South. 


356  THE    TATLER.  [No.  212. 

ON  DEESS. 

No.  212.    THURSDAY,  August  17,  1710.    [Steele.] 

I  HAVE   had  much   importunity   to   answer   the  following 

letter. 

"  Mr.  Bickerstaff, 

'^Reading  over  a  volume  of  yours,  I  find  the  words 
Simplex  Munditiis  mentioned  as  a  description  of  a  very  well- 
dressed  woman.  I  beg  of  you,  for  the  sake  of  the  sex,  to 
explain  these  terms.  I  cannot  comprehend  what  my  brother 
means,  when  he  tells  me,  they  signify  my  own  name,  which  is, 

Sir, 

*'  Your  humble  servant, 

''  Plain  English." 

I  think  the  lady's  brother  has  given  us  a  very  good  idea  of 
that  elegant  expression  ;  it  being  the  greatest  beauty  of  speech 
to  be  close  and  inteUigible.  To  this  end,  nothing  is  to  be 
more  carefully  consulted  than  plainness.  In  a  lady's  attire 
this  is  the  single  excellence  ;  for  to  be,  what  some  people  call, 
fine,  is  the  same  vice  in  that  case,  as  to  be  florid  is,  in  writing 
or  speaking.  I  have  studied  and  writ  on  this  important  sub- 
ject, until  I  almost  despair  of  making  a  reformation  in  the 
females  of  this  island  ;  where  we  have  more  beauty  than  in 
any  spot  in  the  universe,  if  we  did  not  disguise  it  by  false 
garniture,  and  detract  from  it  by  impertinent  improvements. 
I  have  by  me  a  treatise  concerning  pinners,  which,  I  have 
some  hopes,  will  contribute  to  the  amendment  of  the  present 
head-dresses,  to  which  I  have  solid  and  unanswerable  objec- 
tions. But  most  of  the  errors  of  that,  and  other  particulars  of 
adorning  the  head,  are  crept  into  the  world  from  the  ignorance 
of  the  modern  tirewomen;  for  it  is  come  to  that  pass,  that 
an  awkward  creature  in  the  first  year  of  her  apprenticeship, 
that  can  hardly  stick  a  pin,  shall  take  upon  her  to  dress  a 


Xo.  212.]  OX    DEESS.  357 

woman  of  the  first  quality.  However,  it  is  certain,  that  there 
requires  in  a  good  tirewoman  a  perfect  skill  in  optics  ;  fjr  all 
the  force  of  ornament  is  to  contribute  to  the  intention  of  the 
eyes.  Thus  she,  who  has  a  mind  to  look  killing,  must  arm  her 
face  accordingly,  and  not  leave  her  eyes  and  cheeks  undressed. 
There  is  xlraminta,  who  is  so  sensible  of  this,  that  she  never 
will  see  even  her  own  husband,  without  a  hood  *  on.  Can  any 
one  living  bear  to  see  Miss  Gruel,  lean  as  she  is,  with  her  Mir 
tied  lack  after  the  modern  way  ?  But  such  is  the  folly  of  our 
ladies,  that  because  one  who  is  a  beauty,  out  of  ostentation  of 
her  being  such,  takes  care  to  wear  something  that  she  knows 
cannot  be  of  any  consequence  to  her  complexion  ;  I  say,  our 
women  run  on  so  heedlessly  in  the  fashion,  that  though  it  is 
the  interest  of  some  to  hide  as  much  of  their  faces  as  possible, 
yet  because  a  leading  toast  appeared  with  a  haclcward  head- 
dress, the  rest  shall  follow  the  mode,  without  observing  that 
the  author  of  the  fashion  assumed  it  because  it  could  become 
no  one  but  herself. 

Flavia  f  is  ever  well-dressed,  and  always  the  genteelest  woman 
you  meet,  but  the  make  of  her  mind  very  much  contributes  to 
the  ornament  of  her  body.  She  has  the  greatest  simplicity  of 
manners,  of  any  of  her  sex.  This  makes  every  thing  look 
native  about  her,  and  her  clothes  are  so  exactly  fitted,  that 
they  appear,  as  it  were,  part  of  her  person.  Every  one  that 
sees  her  knows  her  to  be  of  quality  ;  but  her  distinction  is 
owing  to  her  manner,  and  not  to  her  habit.  Her  beauty  is 
full  of  attraction,  but  not  of  allurement.  There  is  such  a 
composure  in  her  looks,  and  propriety  in  her  dress,  that  you 
would  think  it  impossible  she  should  change  the  garb  you  one 
day  see  her  in,  for  any  thing  so  becoming,  until  you  next  day 
see  her  in  another.     There  is  no  other  mystery  in  this,  but 

*  Hoods  of  various  kinds  began  to  come  into  fashion  in  the  latter  part  of 
the  reign  of  Charles  II.,  when  the  ladies  wore  their  hair  curled  aud  frizzled 
with  the  nicest  art.  They  frequently  set  it  off  with  heart-breakers,  artificial 
curls  so  called.  Sometimes  a  string  of  pearls  or  an  ornament  of  ribband  was 
worn  on  the  head. 

t  This  picture  of  Flavia  is  intended  for  Mrs.  Anne  Oldfield,  the  favourite 
actress. 


358  THE    TATLER.  [No.  214. 

that  however  she  is  apparelled,  she  is  herself  the  same  :  for 
there  is  so  immediate  a  relation  between  our  thoughts  and 
gestures,  that  a  woman  must  think  well  to  look  well. 


A  POLITICAL  BAEOMETEE. 

No.  214.    TUESDAY,  August  22,  1710.     [Steele.] 

Soles  et  aperta  serena 


Prospicere,  and  certis  poteris  cognoscere  signis, 

ViRa.  Georg.  i.  393. 

'Tis  easy  to  descry 

Returning  suns,  and  a  serener  sky. 

In  every  party  there  are  two  sorts  of  men,  the  rigid  and  the 
supple.  The  rigid  are  an  intractable  race  of  mortals,  who  act 
upon  principle,  and  will  not,  forsooth,  fall  into  any  measures 
that  are  not  consistent  with  their  received  notions  of  honour. 
These  are  persons  of  a  stubborn  unpliant  morality  ;  that 
sullenly  adhere  to  their  friends,  when  they  are  disgraced,  and 
to  their  principles,  though  they  are  exploded.  I  shall  there- 
fore give  up  this  stiff-necked  generation  to  their  own  obstinacy, 
and  turn  my  thoughts  to  the  advantage  of  the  supple,  who 
pay  their  homage  to  places,  and  not  persons  ;  and,  without 
enslaving  themselves  to  any  particular  scheme  of  opinions,  are 
as  ready  to  change  their  conduct  in  point  of  sentiment  as  of 
fashion.  The  well-disciplined  part  of  a  court  are  generally  so 
perfect  at  their  exercise,  that  you  may  see  a  whole  assembly, 
from  front  to  rear,  face  about  at  once  to  a  new  man  of  power, 
though  at  the  same  time  they  turn  their  backs  upon  him  that 
brought  them  thither.  The  great  hardship  these  complaisant 
members  of  society  are  under,  seems  to  be  the  want  of  warning 
upon  any  approaching  change  or  revolution  ;  so  that  they  are 
obliged  in  a  hurry  to  tack  about  with  every  wind,  and  stop 
short  in  the  midst  of  a  full  career,  to  the  great  surprise  and 
derision  of  their  beholders. 

When  a  man  foresees  a  decaying  ministry,  he  has  leisure  to 


No.  214.]  A    POLITICAL    BAEOMETER.  359 

grow  a  malcontent,  reflect  upon  the  present  conduct,  and  by 
gradual  murmurs  fall  off  from  his  friends  into  a  new  party,  by 
just  steps  and  measures.  For  want  of  such  notices,  I  have 
formerly  known  a  very  well-bred  person  refuse  to  return  a  bow 
of  a  man  whom  he  thought  in  disgrace,  that  was  next  day 
made  secretary  of  state  ;  and  another,  who,  after  a  long 
neglect  of  a  minister,  came  to  his  levee,  and  made  professions 
of  zeal  for  his  service  the  very  day  before  he  was  turned  out. 

This  produces  also  unavoidable  confusions  and  mistakes  in 
the  descriptions  of  great  men's  parts  and  merits.  That  ancient 
lyric,  Mr.  D'Ursey,  some  years  ago  writ  a  dedication  to  a 
certain  lord,  in  which  he  celebrated  him  for  the  greatest  poet 
and  critic  of  that  age,  upon  a  misinformation  in  Dyer's  Letter, 
that  his  noble  patron  was  made  lord  chamberlain.*  In  short, 
innumerable  votes,  speeches,  and  sermons,  have  been  thrown 
away,  and  turned  to  no  account,  merely  for  want  of  due  and 
timely  intelligence.  Nay,  it  has  been  known,  that  a  panegyric 
has  been  half  printed  off,  when  the  poet,  upon  the  removal  of 
the  minister,  has  been  forced  to  alter  it  into  a  satire. 

For  the  conduct  therefore  of  such  useful  persons,  as  are 
ready  to  do  their  country  service  upon  all  occasions,  I  have  an 
engine  in  my  study,  which  is  a  sort  of  a  Political  Barometer, 
or,  to  speak  more  intelligibly,  a  State  Weather-glass,  that,  by 
the  rising  and  falling  of  a  certain  magical  liquor,  presages  all 
changes  and  revolutions  in  government,  as  the  common  glass 
does  those  of  the  weather.  This  Weather-glass  is  said  to  have 
been  invented  by  Cardan,  and  given  by  him  as  a  present  to 
his  great  countryman  and  contemporary  Machiavel  ;  which,  by 
the  way,  may  serve  to  rectify  a  received  error  in  chronology, 
that  places  one  of  these  some  years  after  the  other.     How  or 

*    This  dedication  was   to   the   "Second  Part   of   Don   Quixote,"  which 
D'tJrsey  addressed  to  Charles,  Earl  of  Dorset,     In  it  are  these  lines  : — 

"You  have,  my  Lord,  a  patent  from  above, 
And,  can  monopolize  both  wit  and  love, 
Inspir'd  and  blest  by  Heaven's  peculiar  care, 
Ador'd  by  all  the  wise  and  all  the  fair  ; 
To  whom  the  world  united  give  this  due, 
Best  judge  of  men,  and  best  of  poets  too." 

B   B 


360  THE    TATLER.  [Xo.  2U. 

when  it  came  into  my  hands,  I  shall  desire  to  be  excused,  if  I 
keep  to  myself ;  but  so  it  is,  that  I  have  walked  by  it  for  the 
better  part  of  a  century  to  my  safety  at  least,  if  not  to  my 
advantage ;  and  have  among  my  papers  a  register  of  all  the 
changes  that  have  happened  in  it  from  the  middle  of  queen 
Elizabeth's  reign. 

In  the  time  of  that  princes?  it  stood  long  at  Settled  Fair. 
At  the  latter  end  of  king  James  the  First,  it  fell  to  Cloudy. 
It  held  several  years  after  at  Stormy  ;  insomuch,  that  at  last, 
despairing  of  seeing  any  clear  weather  at  home,  I  followed  the 
royal  exile,  and  some  time  after  finding  my  Glass  rise,  returned 
to  my  native  countrj^,  with  the  rest  of  the  loyalists.  I  was 
then  in  hopes  to  pass  the  remainder  of  my  days  in  Settled 
Fair :  but,  alas  !  during  the  greatest  part  of  that  reign  the 
English  nation  lay  in  a  dead  calm,  which,  as  is  usual,  was 
followed  by  high  winds  and  tempests,  until  of  late  years  ;  in 
which,  with  unspeakable  joy  and  satisfaction,  I  have  seen  our 
political  weather  returned  to  Settled  Fair.  I  must  only 
observe,  that  for  all  this  last  summer  my  Glass  has  pointed  at 
Changeable.  Upon  the  whole,  I  often  apply  to  Fortune  ^nea's 
speech  to  the  Sibyl  : 

Non  ^^lla  laborum 

0  virgo,  nova  mi  facies  inopinave  surgit  : 
Omnia  prsecepi,  atque  animo  mecum  ante  peregi. 

No  terror  to  my  view, 

No  frightful  face  of  danger  can  be  new  : 
The  mind  foretels  whatever  comes  to  pass  ; 
A  thoughtful  mind,  is  Fortune's  Weather-glass. 

The  advantages,  which  have  accrued  to  those  whom  I  have 
advised  in  their  affairs,  by  virtue  of  this  sort  of  prescience, 
have  been  very  considerable.  A  nephew  of  mine,  who  has 
never  put  his  money  into  the  stocks,  or  taken  it  out,  without 
my  advice,  has  in  a  few  years  raised  five  hundred  pounds  to 
almost  so  many  thousands.  As  for  myself,  who  look  upon 
riches  to  consist  rather  in  content  than  possessions,  and 
measure  the  greatness  of  the  mind  rather  by  its  tranquillity 
than  its  ambition,  I  have  seldom  used  my  Glass  to  make  my 


^'o.  216.]  LEGACY    OF    A    VIRTUOSO.  361 

way  in  the  world,  but  often  to  retire  from  it.  This  is  a  bje- 
path  to  happiness,  which  was  first  discovered  to  me  hj  a  most 
pleasing  apophthegm  of  Pythagoras  :  "  When  the  winds,"  says 
he,  "  rise,  worship  the  echo."  That  great  philosopher  (whether 
to  make  his  doctrines  more  venerable,  or  to  gild  his  precepts 
with  the  beauty  of  imagination,  or  to  awaken  tlie  curiosity  of 
his  disciples,  for  I  will  not  suppose,  what  is  usually  said,  tliat 
he  did  it  to  conceal  his  wisdom  from  the  vulgar)  has  couched 
several  admirable  precepts  in  remote  allusions  and  mysterious 
sentences.  By  the  winds  in  this  apophthegm,  are  meant  state 
hurricanes  and  popular  tumults.  "  When  these  rise,"  says  lie, 
"  worship  the  echo ;  "  that  is,  withdraw  yourself  from  the 
multitude  into  deserts,  woods,  solitudes,  or  the  like  retirements, 
which  are  the  usual  habitations  of  the  echo. 


LEGACY  OF  A  VIRTUOSO. 

No.  216.    SATURDAY,  August  26,  1710.     [Addisox.] 

Nugis  addere  pondus.  Hor.  1  Ep.  i.  42. 


Weiglit  and  importance  some  to  trifles  give. 

Nature  is  fall  of  wonders ;  every  atom  is  a  standing 
miracle,  and  endowed  with  such  qualities  as  could  not  be 
impressed  on  it  by  a  powder  and  wisdom  less  than  infinite. 
For  this  reason,  I  would  not  discourage  any  searches  that  are 
made  into  the  most  minute  and  trivial  parts  of  the  creation. 
However,  since  the  world  abounds  in  the  noblest  fields  of 
speculation,  it  is,  methinks.  the  mark  of  a  little  genius,  to  be 
-wholly  conversant  among  insects,  reptiles,  animalcules,  and 
those  trifling  rarities  that  furnish  out  the  apartment  of  a 
virtuoso. 

There  are  some  men  whose  heads  are  so  oddly  turned  this 
way,  that  though  they  are  utter  strangers  to  the  common 
occurrences  of  life,  they  are  able  to  discover  the  sex  of  a 
cockle,  or  describe  the  generation  of  a  mite,  in  all  its  circum- 

B  B  2 


362  THE    TATLER.  [No.  216. 

stances.  They  are  so  little  versed  in  the  world,  that  they 
scarce  know  a  horse  from  an  ox  ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  will 
tell  you  with  a  great  deal  of  gravity,  that  a  flea  is  a  rhinoceros, 
and  a  snail  an  hermaphrodite.  I  have  known  one  of  these 
whimsical  philosophers,  who  has  set  a  greater  value  upon  a 
collection  of  spiders  than  he  would  upon  a  flock  of  sheep,  and 
has  sold  his  coat  off  his  back  to  purchase  a  tarantula. 

I  would  not  have  a  scholar  wholly  unacquainted  with  these 
secrets  and  curiosities  of  nature  ;  but  certainly  the  mind  of 
man,  that  is  capable  of  so  much  higher  contemplations,  should 
not  be  altogether  fixed  upon  such  mean  and  disproportioned 
objects.  Observations  of  this  kind  are  apt  to  alienate  us 
too  much  fi'om  the  knowledge  of  the  world,  and  to  make  us 
serious  upon  trifles ;  by  which  means  they  expose  philosophy 
to  the  ridicule  of  the  witty,  and  contempt  of  the  ignorant. 
In  short,  studies  of  this  nature  should  be  the  diversions, 
relaxations,  and  amusements  ;  not  the  care,  business,  and 
concern  of  life. 

It  is  indeed  wonderful  to  consider,  that  there  should  be  a 
sort  of  learned  men,  who  are  wholly  employed  in  gathering 
together  the  refuse  of  nature,  if  I  may  call  it  so,  and  hoarding 
up  in  their  chests  and  cabinets  such  creatures  as  others 
industriously  avoid  the  sight  of.  One  does  not  know 
how  to  mention  some  of  the  most  precious  parts  of  their 
treasure,  without  a  kind  of  an  apology  for  it.  I  have 
been  shewn  a  beetle  valued  at  twenty  crowns,  and  a  toad 
at  an  hundred  :  but  we  must  take  this  for  a  general  rule, 
"That  whatever  appears  trivial  or  obscene  in  the  common 
notions  of  the  world,  looks  grave  and  philosophical  in  the  eye 
of  a  Virtuoso." 

To  shew  this  humour  in  its  perfection,  I  shall  present  my 
reader  with  the  legacy  of  a  certain  Virtuoso  *  who  laid  out  a 
considerable  estate  in  natural  rarities  and  curiosities,  which 
upon  his  death-bed  he  bequeathed  to  his  relations  and  friends, 
in  the  following  words: 

*  Dr.  John  Woodward  was  sui^posed  to  have  been  alluded  to  here. 


No.  216.]  LEGACY    OF    A    VIRTUOSO.  363 

THE    WILL    OF   A    VIRTUOSO. 

I  Nicholas  Gimcrack,  being  in  sound  health  of  mind,  but  in 
great  weakness  of  body,  do  by  this  my  last  will  and  testa- 
ment bestow  my  worldly  goods  and  chattels  in  manner  fol- 
lowing : 

Imp'imis,  To  my  dear  wife, 
One  box  of  butterflies, 
One  drawer  of  shells, 
A  female  skeleton, 
A  dried  cockatrice. 

Item,  To  my  daughter  Elizabeth, 

My  receipt  for  preserving  dead  caterpillars, 
As  also  my  preparations  of  winter  May-dew,  and  embryo- 
pickle. 

Item,  To  my  little  daughter  Fanny, 

Three  crocodile's  eggs. 
And  upon  the  birth  of  her  first  child,  if  she  marries  with  her 
mother's  consent. 

The  nest  of  an  humming-bird. 
Item,  To  my  eldest  brother,  as  an  acknowledgment  for  the 
lands  he  has  vested  in  my  son  Charles,  I  bequeath, 
My  last  year's  collection  of  grashoppers. 
Item,  To   his   daughter    Susanna,  being   his  only  child,   I 
bequeath  my 

English  weeds  pasted  on  royal  paper, 
"With  my  large  folio  of  Indian  Cabbage. 
Having  fully  provided  for  my  nephew  Isaac,  by  making 
o^er  to  him  some  years  since, 
A  horned  Scarabasus, 
The  skin  of  a  rattle-snake,  and 
The  mummy  of  an  Egyptian  king, 
I  make  no  further  provision  for  him  in  this  my  Will. 

My  eldest  son  John,  having  spoke  disrespectfully  of  his 
little  sister,  whom  I  keep  by  me  in  spirits  of  wine,  and  in 


364  THE    TATLEE.  [No.  217. 

many  other  instances  behaved  himself  undutifully  towards  me 
I  do  disinherit,  and  wholly  cut  off  fi-om  any  part  of  this  my 
personal  estate,  by  giving  him  a  single  cockle-shell. 

To  my  second  son  Charles  I  give  and  bequeath  all  my 
flowers,  plants,  minerals,  mosses,  shells,  pebbles,  fossils,  beetles, 
butterflies,  caterpillars,  grashoppers,  and  vermin,  not  above 
specified  ;  as  also  all  my  monsters,  both  wet  and  dry  ;  making 
the  said  Charles  whole  and  sole  executor  of  this  my  last  will 
and  testament  ;  he  paying,  or  causing  to  be  paid,  the  aforesaid 
legacies  within  the  space  of  six  months  after  my  decease.  And 
I  do  hereby  revoke  all  other  wills  whatsoever  by  me  formerly 
made. 


ON   SCOLDS. 

No.  217.    TUESDAY,  August  29,     1710.      [Steele.] 

Atque  (leos  atque  astra  vocat  crudelia  mater. 

YiiiG.  Eel.  V.  ver,  23. 

She  sigli'd,  she  sobh'd,  and  furious  with  despair, 
Accused  all  the  gods,  and  every  star. 

As  I  was  passing  by  a  neighbour's  house  this  morning,  I 
overheard  the  wife  of  the  family  speaking  things  to  her  hus- 
band which  gave  me  much  disturbance,  and  put  me  in  mind  of 
a  character  which  I  wonder  I  have  so  long  omitted,  and  that  is, 
an  outrageous  species  of  the  fair  sex,  which  is  distinguished  by 
the  term  Scolds.  The  generality  of  women  are  by  nature 
loquacious ;  therefore  mere  volubility  of  speech  is  not  to  be 
imputed  to  them,  but  should  be  considered  with  pleasure  when 
it  is  used  to  express  such  passions  as  tend  to  sweeten  or  adorn 
conversation  :  but  when  through  rage,  females  are  vehement 
in  their  eloquence,  nothing  in  the  world  has  so  ill  an  effect 
upon  the  features  ;  for  by  the  force  of  it  I  have  seen  the  most 
amiable  become  the  most  deformed  ;  and  she  that  appeared  one 
of  the  Graces,  immediately  turned  into  one  of  the  Furies.  I 
humbly  conceive,  the  great  cause  of  this  evil  may  proceed  from 


Xo.  217.]  ON    SCOLDS.  365 

a  false  notion  the  ladies  have  of,  what  we  call,  a  modest  woman. 
They  have  too  narrow  a  conception  of  this  lovely  character  ; 
and  believe  they  have  not  at  all  forfeited  their  pretensions  to 
it,  provided  they  have  no  imputations  on  their  chastity.  But, 
alas  !  the  young  fellows  know  they  pick  out  better  women  in 
the  side-boxes,  than  many  of  those  who  pass  upon  the  world 
and  themselves  for  modest. 

Modesty  never  rages,  never  murmurs,  never  pouts  ;  when  it 
is  ill-treated,  it  pines,  it  beseeches,  it  languishes.  The  neigh- 
bour I  mention  is  one  of  your  common  modest  women,  that  is 
to  say,  those  who  are  ordinarily  reckoned  such.  Her  husband 
knows  every  pain  in  life  with  her,  but  jealousy.  Now,  because 
she  is  clear  in  this  j^articular,  the  man  cannot  say  his  soul  is  his 
own,  but  she  cries,  "  No  modest  woman  is  respected  now  a- 
days."  What  adds  to  the  comedy  in  this  case  is,  that  it  is 
very  ordinary  with  this  sort  of  women  to  talk  in  the  language 
of  distress  ;  they  will  complain  of  the  forlorn  wretchedness  of 
their  condition,  and  then  the  poor  helpless  creatures  shall 
throw  the  next  thing  they  can  lay  their  hands  on  at  the  per- 
son who  offends  them.  Our  neighbour  was  only  saying  to  his 
wife  "  she  went  a  little  too  fine,"  when  she  immediately  pulled 
his  periwig  off,  and  stamping  it  under  her  feet,  wrung  her 
hands,  and  said,  "  Never  modest  woman  was  so  used."  These 
ladies  of  irresistible  modesty  are  those,  who  make  virtue  un- 
amiable  ;  not  that  they  can  be  said  to  be  virtuous,  but  as  they 
live  without  scandal ;  and  being  under  the  common  denomi- 
nation of  being  such,  men  fear  to  meet  their  faults  in  those 
who  are  as  agreeable  as  they  are  innocent. 

I  take  the  Bully  among  men,  and  the  Scold  among  women, 
to  draw  the  foundation  of  their  actions  from  the  same  defect  in 
the  mind.  A  Bully  thinks  honour  consists  wholly  in  being 
brave ;  and  therefore  has  regard  to  no  one  rule  of  life,  if  he 
preserves  himself  from  the  accusation  of  cowardice.  The  fro- 
ward  woman  knows  chastity  to  be  the  first  merit  iu  a  woman  ; 
and  therefore,  since  no  one  can  call  her  one  ugly  name,  she 
calls  all  mankind  all  the  rest. 

These  ladies,  where  their  companions  are  so  imprudent  as  to 


366  THE    TATLER.  [No.  217. 

take  their  speeches  for  any  other,  than  exercises  of  their  own 
Umgs  and  their  husbands'  patience,  gain  by  the  force  of  being 
resisted,  and  flame  with  open  fury,  which  is  no  way  to  be 
opposed  but  by  being  neglected :  though  at  the  same  time 
human  frailty  makes  it  very  hard,  to  relish  the  philoso^^hy  of 
contemning  every  fi'ivolous  reproach.  There  is  a  very  pretty 
instance  of  this  infirmity  in  a  man  of  the  best  sense  that  ever 
was,  no  less  a  person  than  Adam  himself.  According  to 
Milton's  description  of  the  first  couple,  as  soon  as  they  had 
fallen,  and  the  turbulent  passions  of  anger,  hatred,  and  jealousy, 
first  entered  their  breasts  ;  Adam  grew  moody,  and  talked  to 
his  wife,  as  you  may  find  it  in  the  three  hundred  and  fifty- 
ninth  page,  and  ninth  book,  of  Paradise  Lost,  in  the  octavo 
edition,  which  out  of  heroics,  and  put  into  domestic  style, 
would  run  thus  : 

"  Madam,  if  my  advices  had  been  of  any  authority  with  you, 
when  that  strange  desire  of  gadding  possessed  you  this  morn- 
ing, we  had  still  been  happy  ;  but  your  cursed  vanity  and 
opinion  of  your  own  conduct,  which  is  certainly  very  wavering 
when  it  seeks  occasions  of  being  proved,  has  ruined  both 
yourself  and  me,  who  trusted  you." 

Eve  had  no  fan  in  her  hand  to  ruiHe,  or  tucker  to  pull  down  ; 
but  with  a  reproachful  air  she  answered  : 

*'  Sir,  do  you  impute  that  to  my  desire  of  gadding,  which 
might  have  happened  to  yourself,  with  all  your  wisdom  and 
gravity  ?     The  serpent  spoke  so  excellently,  and  with  so  good 

a  grace,  that Besides,  what  harm  had  I  ever  done  him, 

that  he  should  design  me  any  ?  Was  I  to  have  been  always  at 
your  side,  I  might  as  well  have  continued  there,  and  been  but 
your  rib  still  :  but  if  I  was  so  weak  a  creature  as  you  thought 
me,  why  did  you  not  interpose  your  sage  authority  more 
absolutely  ?  You  denied  me  going  as  faintly,  as  you  say  I  re- 
sisted the  serpent.  Had  not  you  been  too  easy,  neither  you 
nor  I  had  now  transgressed/' 

Adam  replied,  "  Why,  Eve,  hast  thou  the  impudence  to  up- 
braid me  as  the  cause  of  thy  transgression  for  my  indulgence 
to  thee  ?     Thus  will  it  ever  be  with  him,  who  trusts  too  much 


No.  217.]  ON    SCOLDS.  367 

to  woman.  At  the  same  time  that  she  refuses  to  be  governed, 
if  she  suifers  by  her  obstinacy,  she  will  accuse  the  man  that 
shall  leave  her  to  herself." 

Thus  they  in  mutual  accusation  spent 

The  fruitless  hours,  but  neither  self-condemning  ; 

And  of  their  contest  appear'd  no  end. 

This,  to  the  modern,  will  appear  but  a  very  faint  piece  of 
conjugal  enmity  :  but  you  are  to  consider,  that  they  were  but 
just  begun  to  be  angry,  and  they  wanted  new  words  for  ex- 
pressing their  new  passions  ;  but  by  her  accusing  him  of  let- 
ting her  go,  and  telling  him  how  good  a  speaker,  and  how  fine 
a  gentleman  the  devil  was,  we  must  reckon,  allowing  for  the 
improvements  of  time,  that  she  gave  him  the  same  provocation 
as  if  she  had  called  him  cuckold.  The  passionate  and  familiar 
terms,  with  which  the  same  case  repeated  daily  for  so  many 
thousand  years  has  furnished  the  present  generation,  were  not 
then  in  use  ;  but  the  foundation  of  debate  has  ever  been  the 
same,  a  contention  about  their  merit  and  wisdom.  Our  general 
mother  was  a  beauty  ;  and  hearing  there  was  another  now  in 
the  world,  could  not  forbear,  as  Adam  tells  her,  shewing  her- 
self, though  to  the  devil,  by  whom  the  same  vanity  made  her 
liable  to  be  betrayed. 

I  cannot,  with  all  the  help  of  science  and  astrology,  find  any 
other  remedy  for  this  evil,  but  what  was  the  medicine  in  this 
first  quarrel  ;  which  was,  as  appears  in  the  next  book,  that  they 
were  convinced  of  their  being  both  weak,  but  the  one  weaker 
than  the  other. 

If  it  were  possible  that  the  beauteous  could  but  rage  a  little 
before  a  glass,  and  see  their  pretty  countenances  grow  wild,  it 
is  not  to  be  doubted  but  it  would  have  a  very  good  effect  :  but 
that  would  require  temper  :  for  lady  Firebrand,  upon  observ- 
ing her  features  swell  when  her  maid  vexed  her  the  otlier  day, 
stamped  her  dressing-glass  under  her  feet.  In  this  case,  when 
one  of  this  temper  is  moved,  she  is  like  a  witch  in  an  operation, 
and  makes  all  things  turn  round  with  her.  The  very  fabric  is 
in  a  vertigo  when  she  begins  to  charm.     In  an  instant,  what- 


368  THE    TATLER.  [No.  219. 

ever  was  the  occasion  that  moved  her  blood,  she  has  such  in- 
tolerable servants,  Betty  is  so  awkward,  Tom  cannot  carry  a 
message,  and  her  husband  has  so  little  respect  for  her,  that  she, 
poor  woman,  is  weary  of  this  life,  and  was  born  to  be 
unhappy. 

Desunt  multa. 


PEET  PUPPIES. 

No.  219.     SATURDAY,  September  2,  1710.     [Steele.] 


Solutos 


Qui  captat  risus  bominiim,  famamque  dicacis — 
Affectat,  niger  est ;  hunc,  tu  Romane,  caveto. 

HoR.  1  Sat.  iv.  82. 

Who  trivial  bursts  of  laughter  strives  to  raise, 
And  courts  of  prating  petulance  the  praise, 
This  man  is  vile  ;  here,  Roman,  fix  your  mark  ; 
His  soul  is  black,  as  his  complexion's  dark. 

Never  were  men  so  perplexed  as  a  select  company  of  us 
were  this  evening  with  a  couple  of  professed  wits,  who,  through 
our  ill  fortune,  and  their  own  confidence,  had  thought  fit  to 
pin  themselves  upon  a  gentleman  who  had  owned  to  them 
that  he  was  going  to  meet  such  and  such  persons,  and  named 
us  one  by  one.  These  pert  puppies  immediately  resolved  to 
come  with  him  ;  and  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  the 
night  entertained  each  other  with  impertinences,  to  which  we 
were  perfect  strangers.  I  am  come  home  very  much  tired  ; 
for  the  affliction  was  so  irksome  to  me,  that  it  surpasses  all 
other  I  ever  knew,  insomuch  I  cannot  reflect  upon  this  sorrow 
with  pleasure,  though  it  is  past. 

An  easy  manner  of  conversation  is  the  most  desirable 
quality  a  man  can  have  ;  and  for  that  reason  coxcombs  will 
take  upon  them  to  be  familiar  with  people  whom  they  never 
saw  before.  What  adds  to  the  vexation  of  it  is,  that  they  will 
act  upon  the  foot  of  knowing  you  by  fame  ;  and  rally  with  you. 


No.  219.]  PERT    PUPPIES.  369 

as  thej  call  it,  by  repeating  what  your  enemies  say  of  you;  and 
court  you,  as  they  think,  by  uttering  to  your  face,  at  a  wrong 
time,  all  the  kind  things  your  friends  speak  of  you  in  your 
absence. 

These  people  are  the  more  dreadful,  the  more  they  have  of 
what  is  usually  called  wit :  for  a  lively  imagination,  when  it  is 
not  governed  by  a  good  understanding,  makes  such  miserable 
havoc  both  in  conversation  and  business,  that  it  lays  you 
defenceless,  and  fearful  to  throw  the  least  word  in  its  way, 
that  may  give  it  new  matter  for  its  farther  errors. 

Tom  Mercet  has  as  quick  a  fancy  as  anyone  living ;  but 
there  is  no  reasonable  man  can  bear  him  half  an  hour.  His 
purpose  is  to  entertain,  and  it  is  of  no  consequence  to  him 
what  is  said,  so  it  be  what  is  called  well  said  ;  as  if  a  man 
must  bear  a  wound  with  patience,  because  he  that  pushed  at 
you  came  up  with  a  good  air  and  mien.  That  part  of  life 
which  we  spend  iu  company  is  the  most  pleasing  of  aU  our 
moments  ;  and  therefore  I  think  our  behaviour  in  it  should 
have  its  laws,  as  well  as  the  part  of  our  being  which  is  generally 
esteemed  the  more  important.  From  hence  it  is,  that  from 
long  experience  I  have  made  it  a  maxim,  that  however  we 
may  pretend  to  take  satisfaction  in  sprightly  mirth  and  high 
jollity,  there  is  no  great  pleasure  in  any  company  where  the 
basis  of  the  society  is  not  mutual  good-will.  When  this  is  in  the 
room,  every  trifling  circumstance,  the  most  minute  accident,  the 
absurdity  of  a  servant,  the  repetition  of  an  old  story,  the  look 
of  a  man  when  he  is  telling  it,  the  most  indifferent  and  the 
most  ordinary  occurrences,  are  matters  which  produce  mirth 
and  good-humour.  I  went' to  spend  an  hour  after  this  manner 
with  some  friends,  who  enjoy  it  in  perfection  whenever  they 
meet,  when  those  destroyers  above-mentioned  came  in  upon  us. 
There  is  not  a  man  among  them  who  has  any  notion  of 
distinction  of  superiority  to  one  another,  either  in  their 
fortunes  or  their  talents,  when  they  are  in  company.  Or  if 
any  reflection  to  the  contrary  occurs  in  their  thoughts,  it 
only  strikes  a  delight  upon  their  minds,  that  so  much  wisdom 
and  power  is  in  possession  of  one  whom  they  love  and  esteem. 


370  THE    TATLER.  [No.  219. 

In  these  my  Lucubrations,  I  have  frequently  dwelt  upon 
this  one  topic.  The  above  maxim  would  make  short  work  for 
us  reformers  ;  for  it  is  only  want  of  making  this  a  position 
that  renders  some  characters  bad,  which  would  otherwise  be 
good.  Tom  Mercet  means  no  man  ill,  but  does  ill  to  every 
body.  His  ambition  is  to  be  witty  ;  and  to  carry  on  that 
design,  he  breaks  through  all  things  that  other  people  hold 
sacred.  If  he  thought  that  wit  was  no  way  to  be  used  but  to 
the  advantage  of  society,  that  sprightliness  would  have  a  new 
turn,  and  we  should  expect  what  he  is  going  to  say  with  satisfac- 
tion instead  of  fear.  It  is  no  excuse  for  being  mischievous,  that  a 
man  is  mischievous  without  malice  ;  nor  will  it  be  thought  an 
atonement,  that  the  ill  was  done  not  to  injure  the  party 
concerned,  but  to  divert  the  indifferent. 

It  is,  methinks,  a  very  great  error,  that  we  should  not 
profess  honesty  in  conversation,  as  much  as  in  commerce.  If 
we  consider,  that  there  is  no  greater  misfortune  than  to  be  ill 
received  ;  where  we  love  the  turning  a  man  to  ridicule  among 
his  friends,  we  rob  him  of  greater  enjoyments  than  he  could 
have  purchased  by  his  wealth  ;  yet  he  that  laughs  at  him 
would,  perhaps,  be  the  last  man  who  would  hurt  him  in  this 
case  of  less  consequence.  It  has  been  said,  the  history  of 
Don  Quixote  utterly  destroyed  the  spirit  of  gallantry  in  the 
Spanish  nation  ;  and  I  believe  we  may  say  much  more  truly, 
that  the  humour  of  ridicule  has  done  as  much  injury  to  the 
true  relish  of  company  in  England. 

Such  satisfactions  as  arise  from  the  secret  comparisons  of 
ourselves  to  others,  with  relation  to  their  inferior  fortunes  or 
merit,  are  mean  and  unworthy.  The  true  and  high  state  of 
conversation  is,  when  men  communicate  their  thoughts  to  each 
other  upon  such  subjects,  and  in  such  a  manner,  as  would  be 
pleasant  if  there  were  no  such  thing  as  folly  in  the  world  ;  for 
it  is  but  a  low  condition  of  wit  in  one  man,  which  depends 
upon  folly  in  another. 


No.  220.]        AN    ECCLESIASTICAL    THERMOMETER.  371 

AN  ECCLESIASTICAL  THEEMOMETEE. 

No.  220.       TUESDAY,  September  5,  1710.       [Addison.] 

Insani  sapiens  nomen  ferat,  Eequus  iniqui, 
Ultra  quam  satis  est,  virtutem  si  petat  ipsam. 

HoK.  1  Ep.  vi.  15. 

Even  virtue,  when  pursuM  with  warmth  extreme, 
Turns  into  vice,  and  fools  the  sage's  fame. 

Having  received  many  letters  filled  with  compliments  and 
acknowledgments  for  my  late  useful  discoyery  of  the  jDolitical 
barometer,  I  shall  here  commmiicate  to  the  public  an  account 
of  my  ecclesiastical  thermometer,  the  latter  giving  as  manifest 
prognostications  of  the  changes  and  revolutions  in  church,  as 
the  former  does  of  those  in  state ;  and  both  of  them  being 
absolutely  necessary  for  every  prudent  subject  who  is  resolved 
to  keep  what  he  has,  and  get  what  he  can. 

The  church-thermometer,  which  I  am  now  to  treat  of,  is 
supposed  to  have  been  invented  in  the  reign  of  Henry  the 
Eighth,  about  the  time  when  that  religious  prince  put  some 
to  death  for  owning  the  Pope's  supremacy,  and  others  for 
denying  transubstantiation.  I  do  not  find,  however,  any  great 
nse  made  of  this  instrument,  until  it  fell  into  the  hands  of  a 
learned  and  vigilant  priest  or  minister,  for  he  frequently  wrote 
himself  both  one  and  the  other,  who  was  some  time  Yicar 
of  Bray.  This  gentleman  lived  in  his  vicarage  to  a  good  old 
age  ;  and,  after  having  seen  several  successions  of  his  neigh- 
bouring clergy  either  burned  or  banished,  departed  this  life 
with  the  satisfaction  of  having  never  deserted  his  flock,  and 
died  Vicar  of  Bray,*  As  this  glass  was  first  designed  to  cal- 
culate the  different  degrees  of  heat  in  religion,  as  it  raged  in 
popery,  or  as  it  cooled  and  grew  temperate  in  the  reformation  ; 
it   was  marked   at   several   distances,  after  the  manner  our 

*  The  Rev.  Symon  Symonds  was  the  Vicar  of  Bray,  Berks,  here  alluded  to. 
He  was  twice  a  Papist  and  twice  a  Protestant  in  four  successive  reigns — those 
of  Henry  VIII.,  Edward  VI,,  Mary,  and  Elizabeth. 


372  THE    TATLER.  [No.  220. 

ordinary  thermometer  is  to  this  day,  viz.  "  Extreme  Heat,  Sul- 
try Heat,  Very  Hot,  Hot,  Warm,  Temperate,  Cold,  Just  Freez- 
ing, Frost,  Hard  Frost,  Great  Frost,  Extreme  Cold." 

It  is  well  known,  that  Toricellius,  the  inventor  of  the 
common  weather-glass,  made  the  experiment  in  a  long  tube, 
which  held  thirty-two  feet  of  water  ;  and  that  a  more  modern 
virtuoso,  finding  such  a  machine  altogether  unwieldy  and  use- 
less, and  considering  that  thirty-two  inches  of  quicksilver 
weighed  as  much  ns  so  many  feet  of  water  in  a  tube  of  the 
same  circumference,  invented  that  sizable  instrument  which  is 
now  in  use.  After  this  manner,  that  I  might  adapt  the 
thermometer  I  am  now  speaking  of  to  the  present  constitution 
of  our  church,  as  divided  into  high  and  low,  I  have  made  some 
necessary  variations  both  in  the  tube  and  the  fluid  it  contains. 
In  the  first  place,  I  ordered  a  tube  to  be  cast  in  a  planetary 
hour,  and  took  care  to  seal  it  hermetically,  when  the  Sun  was 
in  conjunction  with  Saturn.  I  then  took  the  proper  pre- 
cautions about  the  fluid,  which  is  a  compound  of  two  very 
different  liquors  ;  one  of  them  a  spirit  drawn  out  of  a  strong 
heady  wine ;  the  other  a  particular  sort  of  rock-water,  colder 
than  ice,  and  clearer  than  crystal.  The  spirit  is  of  a  red  fiery 
colour,  and  so  very  apt  to  ferment,  that  unless  it  be  mingled 
with  a  proportion  of  the  water,  or  pent  up  very  close,  it  will 
burst  the  vessel  that  holds  it,  and  fly  up  in  fume  and  smoke. 
The  water,  on  the  contrary,  is  of  such  a  subtle  piercing  cold, 
that,  unless  it  be  mingled  with  a  proportion  of  the  spirits,  it 
will  sink  almost  through  everything  that  it  is  put  into  ;  and 
seems  to  be  of  the  same  nature  as  the  water  mentioned  by 
Quintus  Curtius,  which,  says  the  historian,  could  be  contained 
in  nothing  but  in  the  hoof,  or,  as  the  Oxford  manuscript  has  it, 
in  the  skull  of  an  ass.  The  thermometer  is  marked  according 
to  the  following  figure  ;  which  I  set  down  at  length,  not  only 
to  give  my  reader  a  clear  idea  of  it,  but  also  to  fill  up  my 
paper. 

Ignorance. 

Persecution. 

Wrath. 


No.  220.]        AN    ECCLESIASTICAL    TnErvMO:\rETEIl.  373 

Zeal. 

Church. 

Moderation. 

Liikewarmiiess. 

Infidelity. 

Ignorance. 

The  reader  will  observe,  that  the  Church  is  placed  in  the 
middle  point  of  the  glass,  between  Zeal  and  ^loderation  ;  the 
situation  in  which  she  always  flourishes,  and  in  which  every 
good  Englishman  wishes  her,  who  is  a  friend  to  the  constitu- 
tion of  this  country.  However,  when  it  mounts  to  Zeal,  it  is 
not  amiss  ;  and,  when  it  sinks  to  Moderation  is  still  in  a  most 
admirable  temper.  The  worst  of  it  is,  that  when  once  it 
begins  to  rise,  it  has  still  an  inclination  to  ascend  ;  insomuch 
that  it  is  apt  to  climb  up  from  Zeal  to  Wrath,  and  from  Wrath 
to  Persecution,  which  alway  ends  in  ignorance,  and  very  often 
proceeds  from  it.  In  the  same  manner  it  frequently  takes  its 
progress  through  the  lower  half  of  the  glass ;  and,  when  it  has 
a  tendency  to  fall,  will  gradually  descend  from  Moderation  to 
Lukewarmness,  and  from  Lukewarmness  to  Infidelit}-,  which 
very  often  terminates  in  Ignorance,  and  always  proceeds  from 
it. 

It  is  a  common  observation,  that  the  ordinary  thermometer 
will  be  affected  by  the  breathing  of  people  who  are  in  the  room 
where  it  stands  ;  and  indeed  it  is  almost  incredible  to  conceive, 
how  the  glass  I  am  now  describing  will  fall  by  the  breath  of  a 
multitude  crying  "  Popery  ;  "  or,  on  the  contrary,  how  it  will 
rise  when  the  same  multitude,  as  it  sometimes  happens,  cry  out 
in  the  same  breath,  "  The  church  is  in  danger." 

As  soon  as  I  had  finished  this  my  glass,  and  adjusted  it  to 
the  above-mentioned  scale  of  religion  ;  that  I  miglit  make 
proper  experiments  with  it,  I  carried  it  under  my  cloak  to 
several  coffee-houses,  and  other  places  of  resort  about  this 
great  city.  At  Saint  James's  coffee-house  the  liquor  stood  at 
Moderation ;  but  at  WiUs,  to  my  great  surprise,  it  subsided  to 
the  very  lowest  mark  on  the  glass.     At  the  Grecian  it  mounted 


374  THE    TATLEE.  [No.  220. 

but  just  one  point  higher  ;  at  the  Rainbow  it  still  ascended 
two  degrees  ;  ChiMs  fetched  it  up  to  Zeal ;  and  other  adjacent 
coffee-houses,  to  Wrath. 

It  fell  in  the  lower  half  of  the  glass,  as  I  went  farther  into 
the  city,  until  at  length  it  settled  at  Moderation,  where  it  con- 
tinued all  the  time  I  staid  about  the  Exchange,  as  also  while 
I  passed  by  the  Bank.  And  here  I  cannot  but  take  notice, 
that  through  the  whole  course  of  my  remarks,  I  never  observed 
my  glass  to  rise  at  the  same  time  the  stocks  did. 

To  complete  the  experiment,  I  prevailed  upon  a  friend  of 
mine,  who  works  under  me  in  the  Occult  Sciences,  to  make  a 
progress  with  my  glass  through  the  whole  island  of  Great 
Britain  ;  and  after  his  return,  to  present  me  with  a  register  of 
his  observations.  I  guessed  before-hand  at  the  temper  of 
several  places  he  passed  through,  by  the  characters  they  have 
had  time  out  of  mind.  Thus  that  facetious  divine,  Dr.  Fuller, 
speaking  of  the  town  of  Banbury  near  a  hundred  years  ago, 
tells  us,  it  was  a  place  famous  for  cakes  and  zeal,  which  I  find 
by  my  glass  is  true  to  this  day  as  to  the  latter  part  of  this  de- 
scription ;  though  I  must  confess,  it  is  not  in  the  same  reputa- 
tion for  cakes  that  it  was  in  the  time  of  our  learned  author  ; 
and  thus  of  other  places.  In  short,  I  have  now  by  me, 
digested  in  an  alphabetical  order,  all  the  counties,  corporations, 
and  boroughs  in  Great  Britain,  with  their  respective  tempers, 
as  they  stand  related  to  my  thermometer.  But  this  I  shall 
keep  to  myself,  because  I  would  by  no  means  do  anything  that 
may  seem  to  influence  any  ensuing  elections. 

The  point  of  doctrine  which  I  would  propagate  by  this  my 
invention,  is  the  same  which  was  long  ago  advanced  by  that 
able  teacher  Horace,  out  of  whom  I  have  taken  my  text  for  this 
discom'se.  We  should  be  careful  not  to  over-shoot  ourselves  in 
the  pursuits  even  of  virtue.  Whether  Zeal  or  Moderation  be 
the  point  we  aim  at,  let  us  keep  fire  out  of  the  one,  and  frost 
out  of  the  other.  But,  alas  !  the  world  is  too  wise  to  want 
such  a  precaution.  The  terms  High-church  and  Low-church, 
as  commonly  used,  do  not  so  much  denote  a  principle,  as  they 
distinguish  a  party.      They  are  like  words  of  battle,  they  have 


No.  221.]  LADY    GIMCRACK'S    LETTER.  375 

nothing  to  do  with  their  original  signification  ;  but  are  only 
given  out  to  keep  a  body  of  men  together,  and  to  let  them 
know  friends  from  enemies. 

I  must  confess  I  have  considered,  with  some  little  attention, 
the  influence  which  the  opinions  of  these  great  national  sects 
have  upon  their  practice  ;  and  do  not  look  upon  it  as  one  of 
the  unaccountable  things  of  our  times,  that  multitudes  of 
honest  gentlemen,  who  entirely  agree  in  their  lives,  should 
take  it  in  their  heads  to  differ  in  their  religion. 


LADY  GIMCKAOK'S  LETTER. 
Ko.  221.     THURSDAY,  September  7,  1710.     [Addison.] 


Sicut  meus  est  mcs. 


Nescio  quid  meditans  nugarum,  et  totus  in  illis. 

HoR.  1  Sat.  ix.  I. 

Musing,  as  wont,  on  this  and  that, 
Such  trifles,  as  I  know  not  what. 

As  I  was  this  morning  going  out  of  my  house,  a  little  boy  in 
a  black  coat  delivered  me  the  following  letter.  Upon  asking 
who  he  was,  he  told  me,  that  he  belonged  to  my  Lady  Gim- 
crack.  I  did  not  at  first  recollect  the  name ;  but,  upon 
inquiry,  I  found  it  to  be  the  widow  of  Sir  Nicholas,  whose 
legacy  I  lately  gave  some  account  of  to  the  world.  The  letter 
ran  thus  : 

"  Me.  Bickerstaff, 

"  I  hope  you  will  not  be  surprised  to  receive  a  letter 
from  the  widow  Gimcrack.  You  know,  sir,  that  I  have  lately 
lost  a  very  whimsical  husband,  who,  I  find  by  one  of  your  last 
week's  papers,  was  not  altogether  a  stranger  to  you.  AVhen  I 
married  this  gentleman,  he  had  a  very  handsome  estate  ;  but 
upon  buying  a  set  of  microscopes,  he  was  chosen  a  Fellow  of  the 
Royal  Society  ;  from  ivMch  time  I  do  not  rememher  ever  to  have 
heard  him  s^jeah  as  other  people  did,  or  talk  in  a  manner  that 

c  c 


376  THE    TATLER.  No.  221. 

any  of  his  family  could  understand  him.     He  used,  however,  to 
pass  away  his  time  very  innocently  in  conversation  with  several 
members  of  that  learned  body  ;  for  which   reason,  I   never 
advised  him  against  their  company  for  several  years,  until  at 
last  I  found  his  brain  quite  turned  with  their  discourses.     The 
first  symptom  which  he  discovered  of  his  being  a  virtuoso^  as 
you  call  him,  poor  man  !  was  about  fifteen  years  ago  ;  when  he 
gave  me  positive  orders  to  turn  oflfanold  weeding-woman,  that 
had  been  employed  in  the  family  for  some  years.     He  told  me  at 
the  same  time,  that  there  was  no  such  thing  in  nature  as  a 
weed,  and  that  it  was  his  design  to  let  his  garden  produce  what 
it  pleased  ;  so  that,  you  may  be  sure,  it  makes  a  very  pleasant 
show  as  it  now  lies.     About  the  same  time  he  took  a  humour 
to  ramble  up  and  down  the  country,  and  would  often  bring 
home  with  him  his  pockets  full  of  moss  and  pebbles.     This, 
you  may  be  sure,  gave  me  a  heavy  heart ;  though  at  the  same 
time  I  must  needs  say,  he  had  the  character  of  a  very  honest 
man,  notwithstanding  he  was  reckoned  a  little  weak,  until  he 
began  to  sell  his  estate,  and  buy  those  strange  baubles  that  you 
have  taken  notice  of.     Upon  Midsummer-day  last,  as  he  was 
walking  with  me  in  the  fields,  he  saw  a  very  odd-coloured 
butterfly  just  before  us.      I   observed  that  he   immediately 
changed  colour,  like  a  man  that  is  surprised  with  a  piece  of 
good  luck  ;  and  telling  me,  that  it  was  what  he  had  looked  for 
above  these  twelve  years,  he  threw  ofi"  his  coat,  and  followed  it. 
I  lost  sight  of  them  both  in  less  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ; 
but  my  husband  continued  the  chase  over  hedge  and  ditch  until 
about  sunset  ;  at  which  time,  as  I  was  afterwards  told,  he 
caught  the  butterfly  as  she  rested  herself  upon  a  cabbage,  near 
five  miles  from  the  place  where  he  first  put  her  up.     He  was 
here  lifted  from  the  ground  by  some   passengers  in  a  very 
fainting  condition,  and  brought  home  to  me  about  midnight. 
His  violent  exercise  threw  him  into  a  fever,  which  grew  upon 
him  by  degrees,  and  at  last  carried  him  off.     In  one  of  the 
intervals  of  his  distemper  he  called  to  me,  and,  after  having 
excused  himself  for  running  out  his  estate,  he  told  me,  that  he 
had  always  been  more  industrious  to  improve  his  mind  than 


No.  221.]  LADY    GIMCRACK'S    LETTER.  377 

his  fortune  ;  and  that  his  family  must  rather  value  themselves 
upon  his  memory  as  he  was  a  wise  man,  than  a  rich  one.  He 
then  told  me,  that  it  was  a  custom  among  the  Romans  for  a 
man  to  give  his  slaves  their  liberty  when  he  lay  upon  his 
death-bed.  I  could  not  imagine  what  this  meant,  until,  after 
having  a  little  composed  himself,  he  ordered  me  to  bring  him  a 
flea  which  he  had  kept  for  several  months  in  a  chain,  with  a 
design,  as  he  said,  to  give  it  its  manumission.  This  was  done 
accordingly.  He  then  made  the  will,  which  I  have  since  seen 
printed  in  your  works  word  for  word.  Only  I  must  take 
notice,  that  you  have  omitted  the  codicil,  in  which  he  left  a 
large  Concha  Veneris,  as  it  is  there  called,  to  a  Member  of  the 
Royal  Society,  who  was  often  with  him  in  his  sickness,  and 
assisted  him  in  his  will.  And  now,  sir,  I  come  to  the  chief 
business  of  my  letter,  which  is  to  desire  your  friendship  and 
assistance  in  the  disposal  of  those  many  rarities  and  curiosities 
which  lie  upon  my  hands.  If  you  know  any  one  that  has  an 
occasion  for  a  parcel  of  dried  spiders,  I  will  sell  them  a  penny- 
worth. I  could  likewise  let  any  one  have  a  bargain  of  cockle- 
shells. I  would  also  desire  vour  advice,  whether  I  had  best 
sell  my  beetles  in  a  lump,  or  by  retail.  The  gentleman  above- 
mentioned,  who  was  my  husband's  friend,  would  have  me  make 
an  auction  of  all  his  goods,  and  is  now  drawing  up  a  catalogue 
of  every  particular  for  that  purpose,  with  the  two  following 
words  over  the  head  of  them.  Audio  Gimcraclciana.  But,  upon 
talking  with  him,  I  begin  to  suspect  he  is  as  mad  as  poor  feir 
Nicholas  was.  Your  advice  in  all  these  particulars  will  be  a 
great  piece  of  charity  to,  Sir, 

Your  most  humble  servant, 

"  Elizabeth  Gimcrack." 

I  shall  answer  the  foregoing  letter,  and  give  the  widow  my 
best  advice,  as  soon  as  I  can  find  out  chapmen  for  the  wares 
which  she  has  to  put  ofi".  In  the  mean  time,  I  shall  give  my 
reader  the  sight  of  a  letter,  which  I  have  received  from  another 
female  correspondent  by  the  same  post. 

c  c  2 


378  THE    TATLER.  [No.  221. 

"  Good  Mr.  Bicicerstaff, 

"  I  am  convinced  bj  a  late  paper  of  yours,  that  a 
passionate  woman,  who  among  the  common  people  goes  under 
the  name  of  a  scold,  is  one  of  the  most  insupportable  creatures 
in  the  world.  But,  alas  !  Sir,  what  can  we  do  ?  I  have  made 
a  thousand  vows  and  resolutions  every  morning,  to  guard 
myself  against  this  frailty  ;  but  have  generally  broken  them 
before  dinner,  and  could  never  in  my  life  hold  out  until  the 
second  course  was  set  upon  the  table.  What  most  troubles  me 
is,  that  my  husband  is  as  patient  and  good-natured  as  your  own 
worship,  or  any  man  living,  can  be.  Pray  give  me  some  direc- 
tions, for  I  would  observe  the  strictest  and  severest  rules  you 
can  think  of  to  cure  myself  of  this  distemper,  which  is  apt  to 
fall  into  my  tongue  every  moment.     I  am.  Sir, 

"  Your  most  humble  servant,  &c." 

In  answer  to  this  most  unfortunate  lady,  I  must  acquaint 
her,  that  there  is  now  in  town  an  ingenious  physician  of  my 
acquaintance,  who  undertakes  to  cure  all  the  vices  and  defects 
of  the  mind  by  inward  medicines  or  outward  applications.  I 
shall  give  the  world  an  account  of  his  patients  and  his  cures  in 
other  papers,  when  I  shall  be  more  at  leisure  to  treat  upon  this 
subject.  I  shall  only  here  inform  my  correspondent,  that,  for 
the  benefit  of  such  ladies  as  are  troubled  with  virulent  tongues, 
he  has  prepared  a  cold-bath,  over  which  there  is  fastened,  at  the 
end  of  a  long  pole,  a  very  convenient  chair,  curiously  gilt  and 
carved.  When  the  patient  is  seated  in  this  chair,  the  doctor 
lifts  up  the  pole,  and  gives  her  two  or  three  total  immersions 
in  the  cold-bath,  until  such  time  as  she  has  quite  lost  the  use 
of  speech.  The  operation  so  effectually  chills  the  tongue,  and 
refrigerates  the  blood,  that  a  woman,  who  at  her  entrance  into 
the  chair  is  extremely  passionate  and  sonorous,  will  come  out 
as  silent  and  gentle  as  a  lamb.  The  doctor  told  me,  he  would 
not  practise  this  experiment  upon  women  of  fashion,  had  not 
he  seen  it  made  upon  those  of  meaner  condition  with  very  good 
effect. 


No.  224.]  ON    ADVERTISEMENTS.  379 

ON  ADVEETISEMENTS. 

No.  224.     THURSDAY,  Septe^iber  14,  1710.    [Addison.] 

Materiam  superabat  opus. Ovid.  Met.  ii.  5. 

The  matter  equall'd  not  tlie  artist's  skill. 

It  is  my  custom,  in  a  dearth  of  news,  to  entertain  myself 
with  those  collections  of  advertisements  that  appear  at  the  end 
of  all  our  public  prints.  These  I  consider  as  accounts  of  news 
from  the  little  world,  in  the  same  manner  that  the  foregoing 
parts  of  the  paper  are  from  the  great.  If  in  one  we  hear  that 
a  sovereign  prince  is  fled  from  this  capital  city,  in  the  other  we 
hear  of  a  tradesman  who  hath  shut  up  his  shop,  and  run  away. 
If  in  one  we  find  the  victory  of  a  general,  in  the  other  we  see 
the  desertion  of  a  private  soldier.  I  must  confess  I  have  a 
certain  weakness  in  my  temper,  that  is  often  very  much 
affected  by  these  little  domestic  occurrences,  and  have  fre- 
quently been  caught  with  tears  in  my  eyes  over  a  melancholy 
advertisement. 

But  to  consider  this  subject  in  its  most  ridiculous  lights, 
advertisements  are  of  great  use  to  the  vulgar.  First  of  all,  as 
they  are  instruments  of  ambition.  A  man  that  is  by  no  means 
big  enough  for  the  Gazette,  may  easily  creep  into  the  adver- 
tisements ;  by  which  means  we  often  see  an  apothecary  in  the 
same  paper  of  news  with  a  plenipotentiary,  or  a  running-foot- 
man with  an  ambassador.  An  advertisement  from  Piccadilly 
goes  down  to  posterity  with  an  article  from  Madrid,  and  John 
Bartlett  of  Goodman's-fields  *  is  celebrated  in  the  same  paper 
with  the  emperor  of  Germany.  Thus  the  fable  tells  us,  that 
the  wren  mounted  as  high  as  the  eagle,  by  getting  upon  his 
back. 

A  second  use  which  this  sort  of  writings  hath  been  turned 
to  of  late  years,  has  been  the  management  of  controversy  ; 
insomuch  that  above  half  the  advertisements  one  meets  with 
now-a-days  are  purely  polemical.     The  inventors  of  "  Strops 

*  A  truss-maker. 


380  THE    TATLEE.  [Xo.  224. 

for  razors "  have  written  against  one  another  this  way  for 
several  years,  and  that  with  great  bitterness  ;  as  the  whole 
argument  7;ro  and  con  in  the  case  of  "  the  morning  gown  "  is 
still  carried  on  after  the  same  manner.  I  need  not  mention 
the  several  proprietors  of  Dr.  Anderson's  pills  ;  nor  take  notice 
of  the  many  satirical  works  of  this  nature  so  frequently  pub- 
lished by  Dr.  Clark,  who  has  had  the  confidence  to  advertise 
upon  that  learned  knight,  my  very  worthy  friend,  Sir  William 
Eead  :  but  I  shall  not  interpose  in  their  quarrel :  Sir  William 
can  give  him  his  own  in  advertisements,  that,  in  the  judgment 
of  the  impartial,  are  as  well  penned  as  the  doctor's. 

The  third  and  last  use  of  these  writings  is  to  inform  the 
world,  where  they  may  be  furnished  with  almost  every  thing 
that  is  necessary  for  life.  If  a  man  has  pains  in  his  head, 
colics  in  his  bowels,  or  spots  in  his  cloaths,  he  may  here  meet 
with  proper  cures  and  remedies.  If  a  man  would  recover  a 
wife  or  a  horse  that  is  stolen  or  strayed  ;  if  he  wants  new 
sermons,  electuaries,  asses'  milk,*  or  any  thing  else,  either  for 
his  body  or  his  mind  ;  this  is  the  place  to  look  for  them  in. 

The  great  art  in  writing  advertisements,  is  the  finding  out 
a  proper  method  to  catch  the  reader's  eye,  without  which  a 
good  thing  may  pass  over  unobserved,  or  be  lost  among  com- 
missions of  bankrupts.  Asterisks  and  hands  were  formerly  of 
great  use  for  this  purpose.  Of  late  years  the  N.  B.  has  been 
much  in  fashion,  as  also  little  cuts  and  figures,  the  invention 
of  which  we  must  ascribe  to  the  author  of  spring- trusses.  I 
must  not  here  omit  the  blind  Italian  character,  which,  being 
scarce  legible,  always  fixes  and  detains  the  eye,  and  gives  the 
curious  reader  something  like  the  satisfaction  of  prying  into  a 
secret. 

But  the  great  skill  in  an  advertiser  is  chiefly  seen  in 
the  style  which  he  makes  use  of  He  is  to  mention  "  the 
universal  esteem,  or  general  reputation,"  of  things  that  were 
never  heard  of.     If  he  is  a  physician  or  astrologer,  he  must 

*  Asses'  milk  to  be  had  at  Ricliard  Stout's,  at  the  sign  of  the  Ass,  at 
Knightsbridge,  for  three  shillings  and  sixpence  per  quart  ;  the  ass  to  be 
brought  to  the  buyer's  door. — Post-Boy,  Dec.  6,  1711. 


No.  224.]  OX    ADYEUTISEMEXTS.  381 

change  his  lodgings  frequently  ;  and,  though  he  never  saw  any 
body  in  them  besides  his  own  family,  give  public  notice  of  it, 
*'  for  the  information  of  the  nobility  and  gentry."  Since  I  am 
thus  usefully  employed  in  writing  criticisms  on  the  works  of 
these  diminutive  authors,  I  must  not  pass  over  in  silence  an 
advertisement,  which  has  lately  made  its  appearance,  and  is 
written  altogether  in  a  Ciceronian  manner.  It  was  sent  to  me, 
with  five  shillings,  to  be  inserted  among  my  advertisements ; 
but  as  it  is  a  pattern  of  good  writing  in  this  way,  I  shall  give 
it  a  place  in  the  body  of  my  paper. 

"The  highest  compounded  spirit  of  lavender,  the  mo^t 
glorious,  if  the  expression  may  be  used,  enlivening  scent  and 
flavour  that  can  possibly  be,  which  so  raptures  the  spirits, 
delights  the  gust,  and  gives  such  airs  to  the  countenance,  as 
are  not  to  be  imagined  but  by  those  that  have  tried  it.  The 
meanest  sort  of  the  thing  is  admired  by  most  gentlemen  and 
ladies  ;  but  this  far  more,  as  by  far  it  exceeds  it,  to  the  gaining 
among  all  a  more  than  common  esteem.  It  is  sold,  in  neat 
flint  bottles  fit  for  the  pocket,  only  at  the  golden  Key  in 
Wharton's  court,  near  Holbourn-bars,  for  three  shilKngs  and 
six-pence,  with  directions." 

At  the  same  time  that  I  recommend  the  several  flowers  in 
which  this  spirit  of  lavender  is  wrapped  up,  if  the  expression 
may  be  used,  1  cannot  excuse  my  fellow-labourers  for  admitting 
into  their  papers  several  uncleanly  advertisements,  not  at  all 
proper  to  appear  in  the  works  of  polite  writers.  Among  these 
I  must  reckon  the  "  Carminative  "Wind-expelling  Pills."  If 
the  doctor  had  called  them  only  his  Canninative  Pills,  he  had 
been  as  cleanly  as  one  could  have  wished  ;  but  the  second  word 
entirely  destroys  the  decency  of  the  first.  There  are  other 
absurdities  of  this  nature  so  very  gross,  that  I  dare  not  men- 
tion them  ;  and  shall  therefore  dismiss  this  subject  with  a 
public  admonition  to  Michael  Parrot,*  That  he  do  not  presume 

*  "  Whereas  I,  Michael  Parot,  have  had  brought  away  a  worm  of  sixteen 
feet  long,  by  taking  the  medicines  of  J.  More,  apothecary,  in  Abchurch  Lane, 
London.  Witness  ray  hand,  Michael  Parot.  Witness,  Anth.  Spyer." — Post- 
Boy,  April  29,  1710. 


382  THE    TATLER.  [No.  229. 

any  more  to  mention  a  certain  worm  he  knows  of,  which,  by 
the  way,  has  grown  seven  feet  in  my  memory  ;  for,  if  I  am  not 
much  mistaken,  it  is  the  same  that  was  but  nine  feet  long 
about  six  months  ago. 

By  the  remarks  I  have  here  made,  it  plainly  appears  that  a 
collection  of  advertisements  is  a  kind  of  miscellany ;  the 
writers  of  which,  contrary  to  all  authors,  except  men  of  quality, 
give  money  to  the  booksellers  who  publish  their  copies.  The 
genius  of  the  bookseller  is  chiefly  shewn  in  his  method  of 
ranging  and  digesting  these  little  tracts.  The  last  paper  I 
took  up  in  my  hand  places  them  in  the  following  order  : — 

The  true  Spanish  blacking  for  shoes,  &c. 

The  beautifying  cream  for  the  face,  &c. 

Pease  and  plaisters,  &c. 

Nectar  and  Ambrosia,  &c. 

Four  freehold  tenements  of  fifteen  pounds  ^er  ammm,  &c. 

Annotations  upon  the  Tatler,  &c. 

The  present  state  of  England,*  &c. 

A  commission  of  bankruptcy  being  awarded  against  B.  L., 
bookseller,  &c. 


DETRACTOES  OF  THE  TATLER. 

No.  229.    TUESDAY,  September  26,  1710.    [Addison.] 

Qusesitam  meritis  sume  superbiam. 

HoR.  3  Od.  XXX. 

With  conscious  pride 

Assume  the  honours  justly  thine. 

The  whole  creation  preys  upon  itself  Every  living  creature 
is  inhabited.  A  flea  has  a  thousand  invisible  insects  that  teaze 
him  as  he  jumps  fi'om  place  to  place,  and  revenge  our  quarrels 
upon  him.     A  very  ordinary  microscope  shews  us,  that  a  louse 

*  A  book  entitled  "  Angliae  Notitia  ;  or,  The  Present  State  of  England," 
&.C.,  was  originally  compiled  by  Edward  Chamberlayne,  LL.D.,  in  1669,  and 
passed  through  three  impressions  in  that  year.  A  second  part  was  added  in 
1671. 


Xo.  229.]     DETRACTORS  OF  THE  TATLER.         383 

is  itself  a  very  lousy  creature.  A  whale,  besides  those  seas  and 
oceans  in  the  several  vessels  of  his  body,  -which  are  filled  with 
innumerable  shoals  of  little  animals,  carries  about  him  a  whole 
world  of  inhabitants  ;  insomuch  that,  if  we  believe  the  calcula- 
tions some  have  made,  there  are  more  living  creatures,  which 
are  too  small  for  the  naked  eye  to  behold,  about  the  Leviathan, 
than  there  are  of  visible  creatures  upon  the  face  of  the  whole 
earth.  Thus  every  noble  creature  is,  as  it  were,  the  basis  and 
support  of  multitudes  that  are  his  inferiors. 

This  consideration  very  much  comforts  me,  when  I  think  of 
those  numberless  vermin  that  feed  upon  this  paper,  and  find 
theii'  sustenance  out  of  it ;  I  mean  the  small  wits  and  scribblers, 
that  every  day  turn  a  penny  by  nibbling  at  my  Lucubrations. 
This  has  been  so  advantageous  to  this  little  species  of  writers, 
that,  if  they  do  me  justice,  I  may  expect  to  have  ray  statue 
erected  in  Grub  Street,  as  being  a  common  benefactor  to  that 
quarter. 

They  say,  when  a  fox  is  very  much  troubled  with  fleas,  he 
goes  into  the  next  pool  with  a  little  lock  of  wool  in  his  mouth, 
and  keeps  his  body  under  water  until  the  vermin  get  into  it; 
after  which  he  quits  the  wool,  and  diving,  leaves  his  tormentors 
to  shift  for  themselves,  and  get  their  livelihood  where  they 
can.  I  would  have  these  gentlemen  take  care  that  I  do  not 
serve  them  after  the  same  manner  ;  for  though  I  have  hitherto 
kept  my  temper  pretty  well,  it  is  not  impossible  but  I  may 
some  time  or  other  disappear  ;  and  what  will  then  become  of 
them  ?  Should  I  lay  down  my  paper,  what  a  famine  would 
there  be  among  the  hawkers,  printers,  booksellers,  and  authors ! 
It  would  be  like  Doctor  Burgess's*  dropping  his  cloak,  with 
the  whole  congregation  hanging  upon  the  skirts  of  it.  To 
enumerate  some  of  these  my  doughty  antagonists  ;  I  was 
threatened  to  be  answered  weekly  Tit  for  Tat;  I  was  under- 
mined by  the  Whisperer ;  haunted  by  Tom  Brown's  Ghost; 
scolded  at  by  a  Female  Tatler  ;  and  slandered  by  another  of  the 


*  Daniel  Burgess,   the   doctor   here   alluded   to,   resided   at  the  court  of 
Hanover  as  secretary  and  reader  to  the  Princess  Sophia. 


384  THE    TATLER  [No.  229. 

same  character,  under  the  title  of  Afalantis.  I  have  been 
annotated,  retattlecl,  examined,  and  condoled:  but  it  being  my 
standing  maxim  neyer  to  speak  ill  of  the  dead,  I  shall  let  these 
authors  rest  in  peace  ;  and  take  great  pleasure  in  thinking, 
that  I  have  sometimes  been  the  means  of  their  getting  a  belly- 
full.  "When  I  see  myself  thus  surrounded  by  such  formidable 
enemies,  I  often  think  of  the  knight  of  the  Eed  Cross  in 
Spenser's  "  Men  of  Error,"  who,  after  he  has  cut  off  the  dragon's 
head,  and  left  it  wallowing  in  a  flood  of  ink,  sees  a  thousand 
monstrous  reptiles  making  their  attempts  upon  him,  one  with 
many  heads,  another  with  none,  and  all  of  them  without  eyes. 

The  same  so  sore  annoyed  has  the  Knight, 
That,  well  nigh  choaked  with  the  deadly  stink, 
His  forces  fail,  he  can  no  longer  fight ; 
Whose  courage  when  the  fiend  perceiv'd  to  shrink, 
She  poured  forth  out  of  her  hellish  sink 
Her  fruitful  cursed  spawn  of  serpents  sniall, 
Deformed  monsters,  foul,  and  black  as  ink  ; 
Which  swarming  all  about  his  legs  did  crawl, 
And  him  encumbred  sore,  but  could  not  hurt  at  all. 

As  gentle  shepherd  in  sweet  even  tide, 
When  ruddy  l?'hoebus  'gins  to  welk  in  west. 
High  on  an  hill,  his  flock  to  viewen  wide, 
Marks  which  do  bite  their  hasty  supper  best ; 
A  cloud  of  cumbrous  gnats  do  him  molest, 
All  striving  to  infix  their  feeble  stings, 
That  from  their  noyance  he  no  where  can  rest ; 
But  with  his  clownish  hands  their  tender  wings 
He  brusheth  oft,  and  oft  doth  mar  their  murmurings.* 

If  ever  I  should  want  such  a  fry  of  little  authors  to  attend 
me,  I  shall  think  my  paper  in  a  very  decaying  condition. 
They  are  like  ivy  about  an  oak,  which  adorns  the  tree  at  the 
same  time  that  it  eats  into  it ;  or  like  a  great  man's  equipage, 
that  do  honour  to  the  person  on  whom  they  feed.  For  my  part, 
when  I  see  myself  thus  attacked,  I  do  not  consider  my 
antagonists  as  malicious,  but  hungry  ;  and  therefore  am  resolved 
never  to  take  any  notice  of  them. 

As  for  those  who  detract  from  my  labours,  without  being 
prompted   to   it  by   an  empty   stomach ;    in  return  to  their 

*   Spenser's  "  Fairy  Queen,    b.  i.  canto  i.  22  and  23. 


No.  232.]  THE    UPHOLSTERER'S    LETTER.  385 

censures,  I  shall  take  pains  to  excel,  and  never  fail  to  persuade 
myself,  that  their  enmity  is  nothin^j  but  their  envy  or 
ignorance. 

Give  me  leave  to  conclude,  like  an  old  man,  and  a  moralist, 
with  a  fable. 

The  owls,  bats,  and  several  other  birds  of  the  night,  were 
one  day  got  together  in  a  thick  shade,  where  they  abused  their 
neic^hbours  in  a  verv  sociable  manner.  Their  satire  at  last  fell 
upon  the  sun,  whom  they  all  agreed  to  be  very  troublesome, 
impertinent  and  inquisitive.  Upon  which,  the  sun,  who  over- 
heard them,  spoke  to  them  after  this  manner  :  "  Gentlemen,  I 
wonder  how  you  dare  abuse  one  that,  you  know,  could  in  an 
instant  scorch  yon  up,  and  burn  every  mother's  son  of  you : 
but  the  only  answer  I  shall  give  you,  or  the  revenge  I  shall 
take  of  you,  is,  to  '  shine  on.'  " 


THE  UPHOLSTEEEK'S  LETTEE. 

No.  232.    TUESDAY,  October  3,  1710.     [Steele.] 

I  HAVE  received  the  following  letter  from  my  unfortunate 
old  acquaintance  the  upholsterer,  who,  I  observed,  had  long 
absented  himself  from  the  bench  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
Mall.  Having  not  seen  him  for  some  time,  I  was  in  fear  I 
should  soon  hear  of  his  death  ;  especially  since  he  never 
appeared,  though  the  noons  have  been  of  late  pretty  warm, 
and  the  councils  at  that  place  very  full  from  the  hour  of 
twelve  to  three,  which  the  sages  of  that  board  employ  in 
conference,  while  the  unthinking  part  of  mankind  are  eating 
and  drinking  for  the  support  of  their  own  private  persons, 
without  any  regard  to  the  public. 

"  Sir, 

"  I  should  have  waited  on  you  very  frequently,  to  have 
discoursed  you  upon  some  matters  of  moment,  but  that  I  love 


386  THE    TATLER.  [No.  232. 

to  be  well  informed  in  the  subject  upon  which  I  consult  my 
fiiends.  before  I  enter  into  debate  with  them.  I  have  there- 
fore, with  the  utmost  care  and  pains,  applied  myself  to  the 
reading  all  the  writings  and  pamphlets  which  have  come  out 
since  the  trial,  and  have  studied  night  and  day  in  order  to 
be  master  of  the  whole  controversy  :  but  the  authors  are  so 
numerous,  and  the  state  of  affairs  alters  so  very  fast,  that  I 
am  now  a  fortnight  behind-hand  in  my  reading,  and  know 
only  how  things  stood  twelve  days  ago.  I  wish  you  would 
enter  into  those  useful  subjects  ;  for,  if  I  may  be  allowed  to 
say  so,  these  are  not  times  to  jest  in.  As  for  my  own  part, 
you  know  very  well  that  I  am  of  a  public  spirit,  and  never 
regarded  my  own  interest,  but  looked  farther  ;  and  let  me 
tell  you,  that  while  some  people  are  minding  only  themselves 
and  families,  and  others  are  thinking  only  of  their  own 
country,  things  go  on  strangely  in  the  North.  I  foresee  very 
great  evils  arising  from  the  neglect  of  transactions  at  a  dis- 
tance ;  for  which  reason  I  am  now  writing  a  letter  to  a  friend 
in  the  country,  which  I  design  as  an  answer  to  the  Czar  of 
^luscovy's  letter  to  the  Grand  Seignior  concerning  his  Majesty 
of  Sweden.  I  have  endeavoured  to  prove,  that  it  is  not 
reasonable  to  expect  that  his  Swedish  Majesty  should  leave 
Bender  without  forty  thousand  men  ;  and  I  have  added  to 
this  an  apology  for  the  Cossacks.  But  the  matter  multiplies 
upon  me,  and  I  grow  dim  with  much  writing  ;  therefore 
desire,  if  you  have  an  old  green  pair  of  spectacles,  such  as 
you  used  about  your  fiftieth  year,  that  you  would  send  them 
to  me  ;  as  also,  that  you  would  please  to  desire  Mr.  Morphew 
to  send  me  in  a  bushel  of  coals  on  the  credit  of  my  answer  to 
his  Czarian  Majesty  ;  for  I  design  it  shall  be  printed  for 
Morphew,  and  the  weather  grows  sharp.  I  should  take  it 
kindly  if  you  would  order  him  also  to  send  me  the  papers  as 
they  come  out.  If  there  are  no  fresh  pamphlets  published, 
I  compute  that  I  shall  know  before  the  end  of  next  month 
what  has  been  done  in  town  to  this  day.  If  it  were  not  for 
an  ill  custom  lately  introduced  by  a  certain  author,  of  talking 
Latin  at  the  beginning  of  papers,  matters  would  be  in  a  much 


No.  232.]  THE    UPHOLSTERER'S    LETTER.  387 

clearer  light  than  they  are  :  but,  to  our  comfort,  there  are 
solid  writers  who  are  not  guilty  of  this  pedantry.  Tiie  Post- 
man writes  like  an  angel.  The  Moderator  is  fine  reading. 
It  would  do  you  no  harm  to  read  the  Post-Boy  with  attention  ; 
he  is  very  deep  of  late.  He  is  instructive  ;  but  I  confess  a 
little  satirical :  a  sharp  pen  !  he  cares  not  what  he  says.  The 
Examiner  is  admirable,  and  is  become  a  grave  and  substantial 
author.*  But,  above  all,  I  am  at  a  loss  how  to  govern  myself 
in  my  judgment  of  those  whose  whole  writings  consist  in 
interrogatories  ;  and  then  the  way  of  answering,  by  proposing 
questions  as  hard  to  them,  is  quite  as  extraordinary.  As  for 
my  part,  I  tremble  at  these  novelties  ;  we  expose,  in  my 
opinion,  our  affairs  too  much  by  it.  You  may  be  sure  the 
French  king  will  spare  no  cost  to  come  at  the  reading  of  them. 
I  dread  to  think  if  the  fable  of  the  Blackbirds  should  fall 
into  his  hands.  But  I  shall  not  venture  to  say  more  until  I 
see  you.     In  the  mean  time,  I  am,  &c." 

This  unhappy  correspondent,  whose  fantastical  loyalty  to 
the  King  of  Sweden  has  reduced  him  to  this  low  condition  of 
reason  and  fortune,  would  appear  much  more  monstrous  in 
his  madness,  did  we  not  see  crowds  very  little  above  his 
circumstances  fi'om  the  same  cause,  a  passion  to  politics. 

It  is  no  unpleasant  entertainment  to  consider  the  commerce 
even  of  the  sexes  interrupted  by  difference  in  state  affairs. 
A  wench  and  her  gallant  parted  last  week  upon  the  words 
unlimited  and  passive :  and  there  is  such  a  jargon  of  terms 
got  into  the  mouths  of  the  very  silliest  of  the  women,  that 
you  cannot  come  into  a  room  even  among  them,  but  you  find 
them  divided  into  Whig  and  Tory.  What  heightens  the 
humour  is,  that  all  the  hard  words  they  know,  they  certainly 
suppose  to  be  terms  useful  in  the  disputes  of  the  parties.  I 
came  in  this  day  where  two  were  in  very  hot  debate  ;  and 

*  "I  hoped,  as  you  did,  that  your  friend,  the  Upholsterer  had  been  dead. 
He  was  of  a  very  low  character  at  first,  but  after  we  had  had  his  company 
so  often,  a  long  letter  from  him  was  extremely  insipid." — Examiner,  October 
12,  1710. 


388  THE    TATLER.  [No.  232. 

one  of  them  proposed  to  me  to  explain  to  them  what  was  the 
difference  between  circumcision  and  2^'f ^destination.  You  may 
be  sure  I  was  at  a  loss ;  but  they  were  too  angry  at  each 
other  to  wait  for  my  explanation,  and  proceeded  to  lay  open 
the  whole  state  of  affairs,  instead  of  the  usual  topics  of  dress, 
gallantry,  and  scandal. 

I  have  often  wondered  how  it  should  be  possible  that  this 
turn  to  politics  should  so  universally  prevail,  to  the  exclusion 
of  every  other  subject  out  of  conversation  ;  and  upon  mature 
consideration,  find  it  is  for  want  of  discourse.  Look  round 
you  among  all  the  young  fellows  you  meet,  and  you  see  those 
who  have  the  least  relish  for  books,  company,  or  pleasure, 
though  they  have  no  manner  of  qualities  to  make  them  succeed 
in  those  pursuits,  shall  make  very  passable  politicians.  Thus 
the  most  barren  invention  shall  find  enough  to  say  to  make 
one  appear  an  able  man  in  the  top  coffee-houses.  It  is  but 
adding  a  certain  vehemence  in  uttering  yourself,  let  the  thing 
you  say  be  never  so  flat,  and  you  shall  be  thought  a  very 
sensible  man,  if  you  were  not  too  hot.  As  love  and  honour 
are  the  noblest  motives  of  life  ;  so  the  pretenders  to  them, 
without  being  animated  by  them,  are  the  most  contemptible 
of  all  sorts  of  pretenders.  The  unjust  affectation  of  any  thing 
that  is  laudable  is  ignominious  in  proportion  to  the  worth  of 
the  thing  we  affect  :  thus,  as  love  of  one's  country  is  the  most 
glorious  of  all  passions,  to  see  the  most  ordinary  tools  in  a 
nation  give  themselves  airs  that  way,  without  any  one  good 
quality  in  their  own  life,  has  something  in  it  romantic,  yet 
not  fcio  ridiculous  as  odious. 


No.  235.]  ON    PARENTAL    LOVE.  389 

ON  PARENTAL  LOVE. 

No.  235.    TUESDAY,  October  10,  1710.     [Steele.] 

Scit  Genius,  natale  comes  qui  temperat  astrum. 

HoR.  2  Ep.  ii.  187. 

But  whence  these  turns  of  inclination  rose, 
The  Genius  this,  the  God  of  Nature,  knows  : 
That  mystic  Power,  which  our  actions  guides, 
Attends  our  stars,  and  o'er  our  lives  presides. 

Among  those  incliDations  which  are  common  to  all  men, 
there  is  none  more  unaccountable  than  that  unequal  love  by 
which  parents  distinguish  their  children  from  each  other. 
Sometimes  vanity  and  self-love  appear  to  have  a  share  towards 
this  effect  ;  and  in  other  instances  I  have  been  apt  to  attribute 
it  to  mere  instinct  :  but,  however  that  is,  we  frequently  see  the 
child,  that  has  been  beholden  to  neither  of  these  impulses  in 
his  parents,  in  spite  of  being  neglected,  snubbed,  and  thwarted 
at  home,  acquire  a  behaviour  which  makes  him  as  agreeable  to 
all  the  rest  of  the  world,  as  that  of  every  one  else  of  their 
family  is  to  each  other.  I  fell  into  this  way  of  thinking  from 
an  intimacy  which  I  have  with  a  very  good  house  in  our  neigh- 
bourhood, where  there  are  three  daughters  of  a  very  different 
character  and  genius.  The  eldest  has  a  great  deal  of  wit  and 
cunning  ;  the  second  has  good  sense,  but  no  artifice  ;  the 
third  has  much  vivacity,  but  little  understanding.  The  first 
is  a  fine,  but  scornful  woman  ;  the  second  is  not  charming,  but 
very  winning  ;  the  third  is  no  way  commendable,  but  very 
desirable.  The  father  of  these  young  creatures  was  ever  a 
great  pretender  to  wit,  the  mother  a  woman  of  as  much 
coquetry.  This  turn  in  the  parents  has  biassed  their  affections 
towards  their  children.  The  old  man  supposes  the  eldest  of 
his  own  genius  ;  and  the  mother  looks  upon  the  youngest  as 
herself  renewed.  By  this  means,  all  the  lovers  that  approach 
the  house  are  discarded  by  the  father,  for  not  observing 
Mrs.  Mary's  wit  and  beauty  ;  and  by  the  mother,  for  being 
blind  to  the  mien  and  air  of  Mrs.  Biddy.     Come  never  so 


390  THE    TATLER.  [No.  235. 

many  pretenders,  they  are  not  suspected  to  have  the  least 
thought  of  Mrs.  Betty,  the  middle  daughter.  Betty,  there- 
fore, is  mortified  into  a  woman  of  a  great  deal  of  merit,  and 
knows  she  must  depend  on  that  only  for  her  advancement.  The 
middlemost  is  thus  the  favourite  of  all  her  acquaintance,  as 
well  as  mine ;  while  the  other  two  carry  a  certain  insolence 
about  them  in  all  conversations,  and  expect  the  partiality 
which  they  meet  with  at  home  to  attend  them  wherever  they 
appear.  So  little  do  parents  understand  that  they  are,  of  all 
people,  the  least  judges  of  their  children's  merit,  that  what 
they  reckon  such  is  seldon  any  thing  else  but  a  repetition  of 
their  o\\ti  faults  and  infirmities. 

There  is,  methinks,  some  excuse  for  being  particular,  when 
one  of  the  offspring  has  any  defect  in  nature.  In  this  case, 
the  child,  if  we  may  so  speak,  is  so  much  the  longer  the  child 
of  its  parents,  and  calls  for  the  continuance  of  their  care  and 
indulgence  fi'om  the  slowness  of  its  capacity,  or  the  weakness 
of  its  body.  But  there  is  no  enduring  to  see  men  enamoured 
only  at  the  sight  of  their  own  impertinences  repeated,  and  to 
observe,  as  we  may  sometimes,  that  they  have  a  secret  dislike 
of  their  children  for  a  degeneracy  from  their  very  crimes. 
Commend  me  to  lady  Goodly  ;  she  is  equal  to  all  her  own 
children,  but  prefers  them  to  those  of  all  the  world  beside. 
My  lady  is  a  perfect  hen  in  the  care  of  her  brood  ;  she  fights 
and  squabbles  with  all  that  appear  where  they  come,  but  is 
wholly  unbiassed  in  dispensing  her  favours  among  them.  It 
is  no  small  pains  she  is  at  to  defame  all  the  young  women  in 
her  neighbourhood,  by  visits,  whispers,  intimations,  and  hear- 
says ;  all  which  she  ends  with  thanking  heaven,  "  that  no  one 
living  is  so  blessed  with  such  obedient  and  well-inclined 
children  as  herself.  Perhaps,"  says  she,  ''Betty  cannot 
dance  like  Mrs.  Frontinet,  and  it  is  no  great  matter  whether 
she  does  or  not ;  but  she  comes  into  a  room  with  a  good 
grace  ;  though  she  says  it  that  should  not,  she  looks  like  a 
gentlewoman.  Then,  if  Mrs.:  Rebecca  is  not  so  talkative  as 
the  mighty  wit  Mrs.  Clapper,  yet  she  is  discreet,  she  knows 
better  what  she  says  when  she  does  speak.     If  her  wit  be  slow 


2^0.  235.]  OX    PARENTAL    LOVE.  391 

her  tongue  nev^er  runs  before  it."  This  kind  parent  lifts  up 
her  ejes  and  hands  in  congratulation  of  her  own  good  fortune, 
and  is  maliciously  thankful  that  none  of  her  girls  are  like  any 
of  her  neighbours  :  but  this  preference  of  her  own  to  all  others 
is  grounded  upon  an  impulse  of  nature  ;  while  those,  who  like 
one  before  another  of  their  own,  are  so  unpardonably  unjust, 
that  it  could  hardly  be  equalled  in  the  children,  though  they 
preferred  all  the  rest  of  the  world  to  such  parents.  It  is  no 
unpleasant  entertainment  to  see  a  ball  at  a  dancing  school,  and 
observe  the  joy  of  relations  when  the  young  ones,  for  whom 
they  are  concerned,  are  in  motion.  You  need  not  be  told 
whom  the  dancers  belong  to.  At  their  first  appearance,  the 
passions  of  their  parents  are  in  their  faces,  and  there  is  always 
a  nod  of  approbation  stolen  at  a  good  step,  or  a  graceful  turn. 
I  remember,  among  all  my  acquaintance,  but  one  man 
whom  I  have  thought  to  live  with  his  children  with  equanimity 
and  a  good  grace.  He  had  three  sons  and  one  daughter, 
whom  he  bred  with  all  the  care  imas^inable  in  a  liberal  and 
ingenuous  way.  I  have  often  heard  him  say,  "  he  had  the 
weakness  to  love  one  much  better  than  the  other,  but  that  he 
took  as  much  pains  to  correct  that  as  any  other  criminal 
passion  that  could  arise  in  his  mind."  His  method  was,  to 
make  it  the  only  pretension  in  his  children  to  his  favour,  to 
be  kind  to  each  other  ;  and  he  would  tell  them,  "  that  he  who 
•was  the  best  brother,  he  would  reckon  the  best  son."  This 
turned  their  thoughts  into  an  emulation  for  the  superiority  in 
kind  and  tender  affection  towards  each  other.  The  boys 
behaved  themselves  very  early  with  a  manly  friendship  ;  and 
their  sister,  instead  of  the  gross  familiarities,  and  impertinent 
freedoms  in  behaviour,  usual  in  other  houses,  was  always 
treated  by  them  with  as  much  complaisance  as  any  other 
young  lady  of  their  acquaintance.  It  was  an  unspeakable 
pleasure  to  visit,  or  sit  at  a  meal,  in  that  family.  I  have  often 
seen  the  old  man's  heart  flow  at  his  eyes  with  joy,  upon 
occasions  which  would  appear  indifFerent  to  such  as  were 
strangers  to  the  turn  of  his  mind  ;  but  a  very  slight  accident, 
wherein  he  saw  his  children's  good-will  to  one  another,  created 

D    D 


392  THE    TATLER.  [No.  237. 

in  him  the  god-like  pleasure  of  loving  them  because  they  loved 
each  other.  This  great  command  of  himself,  in  hiding  his 
first  impulse  to  partiahty,  at  last  improved  to  a  steady  justice 
towards  them ;  and  that,  which  at  first  was  but  an  expedient 
to  correct  his  weakness,  was  afterwards  the  measure  of  his 
virtue. 

The  truth  of  it  is,  those  parents  who  are  interested  in  the 
care  of  one  child  more  than  that  of  another,  no  longer  deserve  the 
name  of  parents,  but  are,  in  effect,  as  childish  as  their  children, 
in  having  such  unreasonable  and  ungoverned  inclinations.  A 
father  of  this  sort  has  degraded  himself  into  one  of  his  own 
offspring  ;  for  none  but  a  child  would  take  part  in  the  passions 
of  children. 


ITHUEIEL'S  SPEAE. 

No.  237.     SATURDAY,  October  14,  1710.     [Addison.] 

Ill  nova  fert  animu.s  mutatas  dicere  formas 
Corpora.  Ovid. 

Of  bodies  chang'd  to  various  forms  I  sing. 

CoMixa  home  last  night  before  my  usual  hour,  I  took  a 
book  into  my  hand,  in  order  to  divert  myself  with  it  until  bed- 
time. Milton  chanced  to  be  my  author,  whose  admirable 
poem  of  "  Paradise  Lost  "  serves  at  once  to  fill  the  mind  with 
pleasing  ideas,  and  with  good  thoughts,  and  was  therefore  the 
most  proper  book  for  my  purpose.  I  was  amusing  myself  with 
that  beautiful  passage  in  which  the  poet  represents  Eve  sleep- 
ing by  Adam's  side,  with  the  devil  sitting  at  her  ear,  and 
inspiring  evil  thoughts,  under  the  shape  of  a  toad.  Ithuriel, 
one  of  the  guardian  angels  of  the  place,  walking  his  nightly 
rounds,  saw  the  great  enemy  of  mankind  hid  in  this  loath- 
some animal,  which  he  touched  with  his  spear.  This  spear 
being  of  a  celestial  temper,  had  such  a  secret  virtue  in  it, 
that   whatever  it  was  applied    to,   immediately  flnng  off'  all 


No.  237.]  ITHURIEL'S    SPEAR.  393 

disguise,  and  appeared  in  its  natural  figure.  I  am  afraid  the 
reader  will  not  pardon  me,  if  I  content  myself  with  explaining 
the  passage  in  j^rose,  without  giving  it  in  the  author's  own 
inimitable  words  : 

On  he  led  his  radiant  files, 


Dazzling  the  morn.     These  to  the  bower  direct, 
In  search  of  whom  they  sought.     Him  there  they  found, 
Squat  like  a  toad,  close  at  the  ear  of  Eve  ; 
Essaying  by  his  devilish  art  to  reach 
The  organs  of  her  fancy,  and  with  them  forge 
.     Illusions  as  he  list,  phantasms  and  dreams  ; 
Or  if,  inspiring  venom,  he  might  taint 
The  animal  spirits  (that  from  pure  blood  arise 
Like  gentle  breaths  from  rivers  pure),  thence  raise 
At  least  distemper'd,  discontented  thoughts, 
Vain  hopes,  vain  aims,  inordinate  desires. 
Blown  up  with  high  conceits,  ingend'ring  pride, 
Hira,  thus  intent.  Ithuriel  with  his  spear 
Touch'd  lightly  ;  for  no  falsehood  can  endure 
Touch  of  celestial  temper,  but  returns 
Of  force  to  his  own  likeness.     Up  he  starts 
Discover  d  and  surpris'd.     As  when  a  spark 
Lights  on  a  heap  of  nitrous  powder,  laid 
Fit  for  the  tun,  some  magazine  to  store' 
Against  a  rumour'd  war,  the  smutty  grain, 
With  sudden  blaze  diff  us'd,  inflames  the  air  ; 
So  started  up  in  his  own  shape  the  fiend. 

I  could  not  forbear  thinking  how  happy  a  man  would  be  in 
the  possession  of  this  spear  ;  or  what  an  advantage  it  would  be 
to  a  minister  of  state  were  he  master  of  such  a  white  staif.  It 
would  help  him  to  discover  his  friends  from  his  enemies,  men 
of  abilities  from  pretenders  :  it  would  hinder  him  from  being 
imposed  upon  by  appearances  and  professions  ;  and  might  be 
made  use  of  as  a  kind  of  state-test,  which  no  artifice  could 
elude. 

These  thoughts  made  very  lively  impressions  on  my 
imagination,  which  were  improved,  instead  of  being  defaced, 
by  sleep,  and  produced  in  me  the  following  dream  :  I  was  no 
sooner  fallen  asleep,  but  methought  the  angel  Ithuriel  appeared 
to  me,  and,  with  a  smile  that  still  added  to  his  celestial  beauty, 
made  me  a  present  of  the  spear  which  he  held  in  his  hand ; 
and  disappeared.  To  make  trials  of  it,  I  went  into  a  place  of 
public  resort. 

D  D  2 


394  THE    TATLER.  [No.  237. 

The  first  person  that  passed  by  me,  was  a  lady  that  had  a 
particular  shyness  in  the  cast  of  her  eye,  and  a  more  than 
ordinary  reservedness  in  all  the  parts  of  her  behaviour.  She 
seemed  to  look  upon  man  as  an  obscene  creature,  with  a  certain 
scorn  and  fear  of  him.  In  the  height  of  her  airs  I  touched  her 
gently  with  my  wand,  when,  to  my  unspeakable  surprise,  she 
fell  in  such  a  manner  as  made  me  blush  in  my  sleep.  As  I 
was  hasting  away  from  this  undisguised  prude,  I  saw  a  lady  in 
earnest  discourse  with  another,  and  over-heard  her  say,  with 
some  vehemence,  "  Never  tell  me  of  him,  for  I  am  resolved  to 
die  a  virgin  !  "  I  had  a  curiosity  to  try  her  ;  but,  as  soon  as  I 
laid  my  wand  upon  her  head,  she  immediately  fell  in  labour. 
My  eyes  were  diverted  from  her  by  a  man  and  his  wife,  who 
walked  near  me  hand  in  hand  after  a  very  loving  manner.  I 
gave  each  of  them  a  gentle  tap,  and  the  next  instant  saw  the 
woman  in  breeches,  and  the  man  with  a  fan  in  his  hand.  It 
would  be  tedious  to  describe  the  long  series  of  metamorphoses 
that  I  entertained  myself  with  in  my  night's  adventure,  of 
Whigs  disguised  in  Tories,  and  Tories  in  Whigs  ;  men  in  red 
coats,  that  denounced  terror  in  their  countenances,  trembling 
at  the  touch  of  my  spear  ;  others  in  black,  with  peace  in  their 
mouths,  but  swords  in  their  hands.  I  could  tell  stories  of 
noblemen  turned  into  usurers,  and  magistrates  into  beadles ; 
of  free-thinkers  into  penitents,  and  reformers  into  whore- 
masters.  I  must  not,  however,  omit  the  mention  of  a  grave 
citizen  who  passed  by  me  with  an  huge  clasped  Bible  under 
his  arm,  and  a  band  of  a  most  immoderate  breadth  ;  but,  upon 
a  touch  on  the  shoulder,  he  let  drop  his  book,  and  fell  a-picking 
my  pocket. 

In  the  general  I  observed,  that  those  who  appeared  good, 
often  disappointed  my  expectations  ;  but  that,  on  the  contrary, 
those  who  appeared  very  bad,  still  grew  worse  upon  the 
experiment  ;  as  the  toad  in  Milton,  which  one  would  have 
thought  the  most  deformed  part  of  the  creation,  at  Ith Uriel's 
stroke  became  more  deformed,  and  started  up  into  a  devil. 

Among  all  the  persons  that  I  touched,  there  was  but  one 
who  stood  the  test  of  my  wand  ;   and,  after  many  repetitions  of 


Xo.  237.]  ITHURIEL'S    SPEAR.  396 

the  stroke,  stuck  to  his  form,  and  remained  steady  and  fixed  in 
his  first  appearance.  This  was  a  young  man,  who  boasted  of 
foul  distempers,  wild  debauches,  insults  upon  holy  men,  and 
affronts  to  religion. 

My  heart  was  extremely  troubled  at  this  vision.  The  con- 
templation of  the  whole  species,  so  entirely  sunk  in  corruption, 
filled  my  mind  with  a  melancholy  that  is  inexpressible,  and  my 
discoveries  still  added  to  my  affliction. 

In  the  midst  of  these  sorrows  which  I  had  in  my  heart, 
methought  there  passed  before  me  a  couple  of  coaches  with 
purple  liveries.  There  sat  in  each  of  them  a  person  with  a 
very  venerable  aspect.  At  the  appearance  of  them  the  people, 
who  were  gathered  round  me  in  great  multitudes,  divided  into 
parties,  as  they  were  disposed  to  favour  either  of  those 
reverend  persons.  The  enemies  of  one  of  them  begged  me  to 
touch  him  with  my  wand,  and  assured  me  I  should  see  his 
lawn  converted  into  a  cloke.  The  opposite  party  told  me  with 
as  much  assurance,  that  if  I  laid  my  wand  upon  the  other,  I 
should  see  his  garments  embroidered  with  flower-deluces,  and 
his  head  covered  with  a  cardinal's  hat.  I  made  the  experi- 
ment, and,  to  my  great  joy,  saw  them  both  without  any 
change,  distributing  their  blessings  to  the  people,  and  praying 
for  those  who  had  reviled  them.  Is  it  possible,  thought  I, 
that  good  men,  who  are  so  few  in  number,  should  be  divided 
among  themselves,  and  give  better  quarter  to  the  vicious  that 
are  in  their  party,  than  the  most  strictly  virtuous  who  are  out 
of  it  ?  Are  the  ties  of  faction  above  those  of  rehgion  ? — I  was 
going  on  in  my  soliloquies,  but  some  sudden  accident  awakened 
me,  when  I  found  my  hand  grasped,  but  my  spear  gone.  The 
reflection  on  so  very  odd  a  dream  made  me  figure  to  myself, 
what  a  strange  face  the  world  would  bear,  should  all  mankind 
appear  in  their  proper  shapes  and  characters,  without  hypocrisy 
and  disguise  ?  I  am  afraid  the  earth  we  live  upon  would 
appear  to  other  intellectual  beings  no  better  than  a  planet 
peopled  with  monsters.  This  should,  methinks,  inspire  us 
with  an  honest  ambition  of  recommending  ourselves  to  those 
invisible  spies,  and  of  being  what  we  would  appear.     There 


.396  THE    TATLER.  [No.  239. 

was  one  circumstance  in  my  foregoing  dream,  which  I  at  first 
intended  to  conceal ;  but,  upon  second  thoughts,  I  cannot  look 
upon  myself  as  a  candid  and  impartial  historian,  if  I  do  not 
acquaint  my  reader,  that  upon  taking  Ithuriel's  spear  into  my 
hand,  though  I  was  before  an  old  decrepit  fellow,  I  appeared  a 
very  handsome,  jolly,  black  man.  But  I  know  my  enemies 
will  say  this  is  praising  my  own  beauty,  for  which  reason  I  will 
speak  no  more  of  it. 


A  GENTLE  CHASTISEMENT. 

No.  239.    THURSDAY,  October  19,  1710.     [Addison.] 

Mecum  certasse  feretur  ?         Ovid.  Met.  xiii.  20. 

Shall  he  contend  with  me  to  get  a  name  ? 

It  is  ridiculous  for  any  man  to  criticise  on  the  works  of 
another,  who  has  not  distinguished  himself  by  his  own  perfor- 
mances. A  judge  would  make  but  an  indifferent  figure  who 
had  never  been  known  at  the  bar.  Cicero  was  reputed  the 
greatest  orator  of  his  age  and  country,  before  he  wrote  a  book 
"  De  Oratore  ; "  and  Horace  the  greatest  poet,  before  he  pub- 
lished his  "  Art  of  Poetry."  This  observation  arises  naturally 
in  any  one  who  casts  his  eye  upon  this  last-mentioned  author, 
where  he  will  find  the  criticisms  placed  in  the  latter  end  of  his 
book,  that  is,  after  the  finest  odes  and  satires  in  the  Latin 
tongue. 

A  modern,  whose  name  I  shall  not  mention,  because  I  would 
not  make  a  silly  paper  sell,  was  born  a  Critic  and  an  Examiner, 
and,  like  one  of  the  race  of  the  serpent's  teeth,  came  into  the 
world  with  a  sword  in  his  hand.  His  works  put  me  in  mind 
of  the  story  that  is  told  of  the  German  monk,  who  was  taking 
a  catalogue  of  a  friend's  library,  and  meeting  with  a  Hebrew 
book  in  it,  entered  it  under  the  title  of,  ^'  A  book  that  has 


No.  239.]  A    GENTLE    CHASTISEMEXT.  397 

the  beo:innin2:  where  the  end  should  be."  This  author,  in  tlie 
last  of  his  crudities,  has  amassed  together  a  heap  of  quotations, 
to  prove  that  Horace  and  Virgil  were  both  of  them  modester 
men  than  myself;  and  if  liis  works  were  to  live  as  long  as 
mine,  they  may  possibly  give  posterity  a  notion,  that  Isaac 
Bickerstafif  was  a  very  conceited  old  fellow,  and  as  vain  a  man 
as  either  Tully  or  Sir  Francis  Bacon.  Had  this  serious  writer 
fallen  upon  me  only,  I  could  have  overlooked  it  ;  but  to  see 
Cicero  abused  is,  I  must  confess,  what  I  cannot  bear.  The 
censure  he  passes  upon  this  great  man  runs  thus  :  ^'  The  itch 
of  being  very  abusive  is  almost  inseparable  from  vain-glory. 
Tully  has  these  two  faults  in  so  high  a  degree,  that  nothing 
but  his  being  the  best  writer  in  the  world  can  make  amends  for 
them."  The  scurrilous  wretch  goes  on  to  say  that  I  am  as  bad  as 
Tully.  His  words  are  these  :  "  And  yet  the  Tatler,  in  his  paper 
of  September  the  twenty-sixth  has  outdone  him  in  both.  He 
speaks  of  himself  with  more  arrogance,  and  with  more  insolence 
of  others."  I  am  afraid,  by  his  discourse,  this  gentleman  has 
no  more  read  Plutarch  than  he  has  Tully.  If  he  had,  he  would 
have  observed  a  passage  in  that  historian,  wherein  he  has,  with 
great  delicacy,  distinguished  between  two  passions  which  are 
usually  complicated  in  human  nature,  and  which  an  ordinary 
writer  would  not  have  thought  of  separating.  Not  having  my 
Greek  spectacles  by  me,  I  shall  quote  the  passage  word  for 
word  as  I  find  it  translated  to  my  hand.  "  Nevertheless,  tho' 
he  was  intemperately  fond  of  his  o^vn  praise,  yet  he  was  very 
free  from  envying  others,  and  most  liberally  profuse  in  com- 
mending both  the  ancients  and  his  contemporaries,  as  is  to  be 
understood  by  his  writings  ;  and  many  of  those  sayings  are 
still  recorded,  as  that  concerning  Aristotle,  'that  he  was  a  river 
of  flowing  gold  : '  of  Plato's  dialogue,  '  that  if  Jupiter  were  to 
speak,  he  would  discourse  as  he  did.'  Theophrastus  he  was 
wont  to  call  his  peculiar  delight ;  and  being  asked,  '  which  of 
Demosthenes  his  orations  he  liked  best  ? '  He  answered, '  The 
longest.' " 

"  And  as  for  the  eminent  men  of  his  own  time  either  for 
eloquence  or  philosophy,  there  was  not  one  of  them  which  he 


398  THE    TATLER.  [No.  239. 

did  Dot,  by  writing  or  speaking  favourably  of,  render  more 
illustrious.'* 

Thus  the  critic  tells  us,  that  Cicero  was  excessively 
vain-glorious  and  abusive  ;  Plutarch,  that  he  was  vain,  but 
not  abusive.  Let  the  reader  believe  which  of  them  he 
pleases. 

After  this  he  complains  to  the  world,  that  I  call  him  names, 
and  that,  in  my  passion,  I  said  he  was  a  flea,  a  louse,  an  owl, 
a  bat,  a  small  wit,  a  scribbler,  and  a  nibbler.  When  he  has 
thus  bespoken  his  reader's  pity,  he  falls  into  that  admirable 
vein  of  mirth,  which  I  shall  set  down  at  length,  it  being  an 
exquisite  piece  of  raillery,  and  written  in  great  gaiety  of  heart. 
"  Alter  this  hst  of  names,"  viz.  flea,  louse,  owl,  bat,  &c.  "  I  was 
surprised  to  hear  him  say,  that  he  has  hitherto  kept  his  temper 
pretty  well ;  I  wonder  how  he  will  write  when  he  has  lost  his 
temper  !  I  suppose,  as  he  is  now  very  angry  and  unmannerly, 
he  will  then  be  exceedingly  courteous  and  good-humoured." 
If  I  can  outlive  this  raillery,  I  shall  be  able  to  bear  any- 
thing. 

There  is  a  method  of  criticism  made  use  of  by  this  author, 
for  I  shall  take  care  how  I  call  him  a  scribbler  again,  which 
may  turn  into  ridicule  any  work  that  was  ever  written,  wherein 
there  is  a  variety  of  thoughts.  This  the  reader  will  observe  in 
the  following  words  :  "  He,"  meaning  me,  "  is  so  intent  upon 
being  something  extraordinary,  that  he  scarce  knows  what  he 
would  be  ;  and  is  as  fruitful  in  his  similes  as  a  brother  of  his* 
whom  I  lately  took  notice  of.  In  the  compass  of  a  few  lines 
he  compares  himself  to  a  fox,  to  Daniel  Burgess,  to  the  knight 
of  the  Red  Cross,  to  an  oak  with  ivy  about  it,  and  to  a  great 
man  with  an  equipage."  I  think  myself  as  much  honoured  by 
being  joined  in  this  part  of  his  paper  with  the  gentleman 
whom  he  here  calls  my  brother,  as  I  am  in  the  beginning  of  it, 
by  being  mentioned  with  Horace  and  Virgil. 

It  is  very  hard  that  a  man  cannot  publish  ten  papers  without 
stealing  from  himself ;  but  to  show  you  that  this  is  only  a 

*  Pr.  Samuel  Garth. 


Xo.  239.]  A    GENTLE    CHASTISEMENT.  399 

knack  of  writing,  and  that  the  author  is  got  into  a  certain 
road  of  criticism,  I  shall  set  down  his  remarks  on  the  works  of 
the  gentleman  whom  he  here  glances  upon,  as  they  stand  in  his 
sixth  paper,  and  desire  the  reader  to  compare  them  with  the 
foregoing  passage  upon  mine. 

"  In  thirty  Hues  his  patron  is  a  river,  the  primum  ynobiJe,  a 
pilot,  a  victim,  the  sun,  any  thing,  and  nothing.  He  bestows 
increase,  conceals  his  source,  makes  the  machine  move,  teaches 
to  steer,  expiates  our  offences,  raises  vapours,  and  looks  larger 
as  he  sets." 

What  poem  can  be  safe  from  this  sort  of  criticism  ?  I  think 
I  was  never  in  my  life  so  much  offended,  as  at  a  wag  whom  I 
once  met  with  in  a  coffee-house.  He  had  in  his  hand  one  of 
the  "  Miscellanies,"  and  was  reading  the  following  short  copy 
of  verses,  which,  without  flattery  to  the  author,  is,  I  think,  as 
beautiful  in  its  kind  as  any  one  in  the  English  tongue  ;  * 

Flavia  the  least  and  slightest  toy 

Can  "with  resistless  art  employ. 

This  fan  in  meaner  hands  would  prove 

An  engine  of  small  force  in  love  ; 

But  she,  with  such  an  air  and  mien, 

Not  to  be  told,  or  safety  seen, 

Directs  its  wanton  motions  so, 

That  it  wounds  more  than  Cupid's  bow  : 

Gives  coolness  to  the  matchless  dame, 

To  every  other  breast  a  flame. 

When  this  coxcomb  had  done  reading  them,  "  Hey-day  ! " 
says  he,  "  what  instrument  is  this  that  Flavia  employs  in  such 
a  manner  as  is  not  to  be  told,  nor  safely  seen  ?  In  ten  lines 
it  is  a  toy,  a  Cupid's  bow,  a  fan,  and  an  engine  in  love.  It 
has  wanton  motions,  it  wounds,  it  cools,  and  inflames  " 

Such  criticisms  make  a  man  of  sense  sick,  and  a  fool  merry. 

The  next  paragraph  of  the  paper  we  are  talking  of,  falls 
upon  somebody  whom  I  am  at  a  loss  to  guess  at :  but  I  find 
the  whole  invective  turns  upon  a  man  who,  it  seems,  has  been 
imprisoned  for  debt.     Whoever  he  was,  I  most  heartily  pity 

*  Dr.  Atterbury  was  the  author  of  this  copy  of  verses  ;  and  it  is  generally 
believed,  that  Mrs.  Anne  Oldfield  was  the  lady  here  celebrated. 


400  THE    TATLER.  [No.  241- 

him  ;  but  at  the  same  time  must  put  the  Examiner  in  mind, 
that  nothwithstanding  he  is  a  Critic,  he  still  ought  to  remem- 
ber he  is  a  Christian.  Poverty  was  never  thought  a  proper 
subject  for  ridicule  ;  and  I  do  not  remember  that  I  ever  met 
with  a  satire  upon  a  beggar. 

As  for  those  little  retortings  of  my  own  expressions,  of 
"  being  dull  by  design,  witty  in  October,  shining,  excelling," 
and  so  forth  ;  they  are  the  common  cavils  of  every  witling,  who 
has  no  other  method  of  shewing  his  parts,  but  by  little  varia- 
tions and  repetitions  of  the  man's  words  whom  he  attacks. 

But  the  truth  of  it  is,  the  paper  before  me,  not  only  in  this 
particular,  but  in  its  very  essence,  is  like  Ovid's  Echo, 

-Qu£e  nee  retieere  loquenti. 


Nee  prior  ipsa  loqui  didicit- 

She  who  in  other's  words  her  silence  breaks, 
Nor  speaks  herself  but  when  another  speaks. 

I  should  not  have  deserved  the  character  of  a  Censor,  had 
I  not  animadverted  upon  the  above-mentioned  author,  by  a 
gentle  chastisement :  but  I  know  my  reader  will  not  pardon 
me,  unless  I  declare,  that  nothing  of  this  nature  for  the  future, 
unless  it  be  written  with  some  wit,  shall  divert  me  from  my 
care  of  the  public. 


THE  POWER  OF  WINE. 

No.  241.     TUESDAY,  October  24,  1710.     [Steele.] 

A  METHOD  of  spending  one's  time  agreeably  is  a  thing  so 
little  studied,  that  the  common  amusement  of  our  young 
gentlemen,  especially  of  such  as  are  at  a  distance  from  those  of 
the  first  breeding,  is  drinking.  This  way  of  entertainment  has 
custom  on  its  side  ;  but,  as  much  as  it  has  prevailed,  I  believe 
there  have  been  very  few  companies  that  have  been  guilty  of 
excess  this  way,  where  there  have  not  happened  more  accidents 
which  make  against  than  for  the  continuance  of  it.     It  is  very 


No.  241.]  THE    POWER    OF    WINE.  401 

common  that  events  arise  from  a  debauch  which  are  fatal,  and 
always  such  as  are  disa.^reeable.  With  all  a  man's  reason  and 
good  sense  about  him,  his  tongue  is  apt  to  utter  thingsi  out  of 
mere  gaiety  of  heart,  which  may  displease  his  best  friends. 
Who  then  would  trust  himself  to  the  power  of  wine,  without 
saying  more  against  it,  than  that  it  raises  the  imagination,  and 
depresses  the  judgment  ?  Were  there  only  this  single  consi- 
deration, that  we  are  less  masters  of  ourselves,  when  we  drink 
in  the  least  proportion  above  the  exigencies  of  thirst ;  I  say, 
were  this  all  that  could  be  objected,  it  were  sufficient  to  make 
us  abhor  this  vice.  But  we  may  go  on  to  say,  that  as  he  who 
drinks  but  a  little  is  not  master  of  himself,  so  he  who  drinks 
much  is  a  slave  to  himself.  As  for  my  part,  I  ever  esteemed  a 
drunkard  of  all  vicious  persons  the  most  vicious  :  for  if  our 
actions  are  to  be  weighed  and  considered  according  to  the  in- 
tention of  them,  what  can  we  think  of  him,  who  puts  himself 
into  a  circumstance  wherein  he  can  have  no  intention  at  all, 
but  incapacitates  himself  for  the  duties  and  offices  of  life,  by  a 
suspension  of  all  his  faculties?  If  a  man  considers  that  he 
cannot,  under  the  oppression  of  drink,  be  a  friend,  a  gentle- 
man, a  master,  or  a  subject  ;  that  he  has  so  long  banished 
himself  from  all  that  is  dear,  and  given  up  all  that  is  sacred  to 
him  ;  he  would  even  then  think  of  a  debauch  with  horror. 
But  when  he  looks  still  farther,  and  acknowledges,  that  he  is 
not  only  expelled  out  of  all  the  relations  of  life,  but  also  liable 
to  offend  against  them  all ;  what  words  can  express  the  terror 
and  detestation  he  would  have  of  such  a  condition  ?  And  yet 
he  owns  all  this  of  himself,  who  says  he  was  drunk  last  night. 
As  I  have  all  along  persisted  in  it,  that  all  the  vicious  in 
general  are  in  a  state  of  death  ;  so  I  think  I  may  add  to  the 
non-existence  of  drunkards,  that  they  died  by  their  own  hands. 
He  is  certainly  as  guilty  of  suicide  who  perishes  by  a  slow,  as 
he  that  is  despatched  by  an  immediate  poison.  In  my  last 
Lucubration  I  proposed  the  general  use  of  water-gruel,  and 
hinted  that  it  might  not  be  amiss  at  this  very  season.  But  as 
there  are  some  whose  cases,  in  regard  to  their  families,  will  not 
admit  of  delay  ;  I  have  used  my  interest  in  several  wards  of 


402  THE    TATLER.  [No.  241. 

the  city,  that  the  wholesome  restorative  above  mentioned  may 
be  given  in  tavern-kitchens  to  all  the  morning-draughts-men, 
within  the  walls,  when  they  call  for  wine  before  noon.  For  a 
farther  restraint  and  mark  upon  such  persons,  I  have  given 
orders,  that  in  all  the  offices  where  policies  are  drawn  upon 
lives,  it  shall  be  added  to  the  article  which  prohibits  that  the 
nominee  should  cross  the  sea,  the  words,  "  Provided  also,  that 
the  above-mentioned  A.  B.  shall  not  drink  before  dinner 
during  the  term  mentioned  in  this  indenture." 

I  am  not  without  hopes,  that  by  this  method  I  shall  bring 
some  unsizeable  friends  of  mine  into  shape  and  breadth,  as  well 
as  others,  who  are  languid  and  consumptive,  into  health  and 
vigour.  Most  of  the  self-murderers  whom  I  yet  hinted  at,  are 
such  as  preserve  a  certain  regularity  in  taking  their  poison, 
and  make  it  mix  pretty  well  with  their  food.  But  the  most 
conspicuous  of  those  who  destroy  themselves,  are  such  as  in 
their  youth  fall  into  this  sort  of  debauchery ;  and  contract  a 
certain  uneasiness  of  spirit,  which  is  not  to  be  diverted  but  by 
tippling  as  often  as  they  can  fall  into  company  in  the  day,  and 
conclude  with  downright  drunkenness  at  night.  These  gentle- 
men never  know  the  satisfaction  of  youth  ;  but  skip  the  years  of 
manhood,  and  are  decrepit  soon  after  they  are  of  age.  I  was 
godfather  to  one  of  these  old  fellows.  He  is  now  three-and- 
thirty,  which  is  the  grand  climacteric  of  a  young  drunkard. 
I  went  to  visit  the  crazy  wretch  this  morning,  with  no  other 
purpose  but  to  rally  him  under  the  pain  and  uneasiness  of  being 
sober. 

But  as  our  faults  are  double  when  they  affect  others  besides 
ourselves,  so  this  vice  is  still  more  odious  in  a  married  than  a 
single  man.  He  that  is  the  husband  of  a  woman  of  honour, 
and  comes  home  over-loaded  with  wine,  is  still  more  con- 
temptible in  proportion  to  the  regard  we  have  to  the  unhappy 
consort  of  his  bestiality.  The  imagination  cannot  shape  to 
itself  any  thing  more  monstrous  and  unnatural  than  the 
familiarities  between  drunkenness  and  chastity.  The 
wretched  Astraea,  who  is  the  perfection  of  beauty  and  inno- 
cence, has  long  been  thus  condemned  for  life,      The  romantic 


No.  242.]  TRUE    RAILLERY.  403 

tales  of  virgins  devoted  to  the  jaws  of  monsters,  have  nothing 
in  them  so  terrible  as  the  gift  of  Astraea  to  that  Bacchanal. 

The  reflection  of  such  a  match  as  spotless  innocence  with 
abandoned  lewdness,  is  what  puts  this  vice  in  the  worst  figure 
it  can  bear  with  regard  to  others  ;  but  when  it  is  looked  upon 
with  respect  only  to  the  drunkard  himself,  it  has  deformities 
enough  to  make  it  disagreeable,  which  may  be  summed  up  in  a 
word,  by  allowing,  that  he  who  resigns  his  reason,  is  actually 
guilty  of  all  that  he  is  liable  to  from  the  want  of  reason. 


TRUE  RAILLERY. 

No.  242.    THUESDAY,  October  26,  1710.     [Steele.] 

Quis  iniquse 


Tam  patieus  urbis,  tam  ferreus  ut  ten  eat  se? 

Juv.  Sat.  i.  30. 

To  view  so  lewd  a  town,  and  to  refrain, 
What  hoops  of  iron  could  my  spleen  contain  ? 

It  was  with  very  great  displeasure  I  heard  this  day  a  man 
say  of  a  companion  of  his,  with  an  air  of  approbation,  '^  You 
know  Tom  never  fails  of  saying  a  spiteful  thing.  He  has  a 
great  deal  of  wit,  but  satire  is  his  particular  talent.  Did  you 
mind  how  he  put  the  young  fellow  out  of  countenance  that 
pretended  to  talk  to  him  ? "  Such  impertinent  applauses, 
which  one  meets  with  every  day,  put  me  upon  considering, 
what  true  raillery  and  satire  were  in  themselves ;  and  this, 
methought,  occurred  to  me  from  reflection  upon  the  great  and 
excellent  persons  that  were  admired  for  talents  this  way. 
When  I  had  run  over  several  such  in  my  thoughts,  I 
concluded,  however  unaccountable  the  assertion  might  appear 
at  first  sight,  that  good-nature  was  an  essential  quality  in  a 
satirist,  and  that  all  the  sentiments  which  are  beautiful  in  this 
way  of  writing,  must  proceed  from  that  quality  in  the  author. 
Good-nature  produces  a  disdain  for  all  baseness,  vice,  and 
folly  ;  which    prompts    them    to     express     themselves   with 


404  THE    TATLER.  [No.  242. 

smartness  against  the  errors  of  men,  without  bitterness 
towards  their  persons.  This  quality  keeps  the  mind  in 
equanimity  and  never  lets  an  offence  unseasonably  throw  a 
man  out  of  his  character.  When  Virgil  said,  "  he  that  did  not 
hate  Bavius  might  love  Masvius,"  he  was  in  perfect  good  humour; 
and  was  not  so  much  moved  at  their  absurdities,  as  passion- 
ately to  call  them  sots  or  blockheads  in  a  direct  invective, 
but  laughed  at  them  with  a  delicacy  of  scorn,  without  any 
mixture  of  anger. 

The  best  good  man,  with  the  worst  natur'd  muse,  was  the 
character  among  us  of  a  gentleman  as  famous  for  his  humanity 
as  his  wit.  "^ 

The  ordinary  subjects  for  satire  are  such  as  incite  the 
greatest  indignation  in  the  best  tempers,  and  consequently 
men  of  such  a  make  are  the  best  qualified  for  speaking  of  the 
offences  in  human  life.  These  men  can  behold  vice  and  folly, 
when  they  injure  persons  to  whom  they  are  wholly  un- 
acquainted, with  the  same  severity  as  others  resent  the  ills 
they  do  to  themselves.  A  good-natured  man  cannot  see  an 
overbearing  fellow  put  a  bashful  man  of  merit  out  of  coun- 
tenance, or  out-strip  him  in  the  pursuit  of  any  advantage,  but 
he  is  on  fire  to  succour  the  oppressed,  to  produce  the  merit  of 
the  one,  and  confront  the  impudence  of  the  other. 

The  men  of  the  greatest  character  in  this  kind  were  Horace 
and  Juvenal.  There  is  not,  that  I  remember,  one  ill-natured 
expression  in  all  their  writings,  nor  one  sentence  of  severity, 
which  does  not  apparently  proceed  from  the  contrary  disposi- 
tion. Whoever  reads  them,  will,  I  believe,  be  of  this  mind ; 
and  if  they  were  read  with  this  view,  it  might  possibly  persuade 
our  young  fellows,  that  they  may  be  very  witty  men  without 
speaking  ill  of  any  but  those  who  deserve  it.  But,  in  the 
perusal  of  these  writers,  it  may  not  be  unnecessary  to  consider 
that  they  lived  in  very  different  times.  Horace  was  intimate 
with    a    prince    of    the    greatest    goodness    and    humanity 

*  This  was  said,  by  the  Earl  of  Rochester,  of  the  celebrated  Lord  Buck- 
hurst,  afterwards  Earl  of  Dorset.  It  is  said  likewise  of  Dr.  Arbuthnot,  "that 
he  liked  an  ill-natured  je.st  the  best  of  any  good-natured  man  in  the  kingdom." 


No.  242.]  TRUE    RAILLERY.  405 

imaginable,  and  his  court  was  formed  after  his  example  : 
therefore  the  faults  that  poet  falls  upon  were  little  incon- 
sistencies in  behaviour,  false  pretences  to  politeness,  or 
impertinent  affectations  of  what  men  were  not  fit  for.  Vices 
of  a  coarser  sort  could  not  come  under  his  consideration,  or 
enter  the  palace  of  Augustus.  Juvenal,  on  the  other  hand, 
lived  under  Domitian,  in  whose  reign  every  thing  that  was 
great  and  noble  was  banished  the  habitations  of  the  men  in 
power.  Therefore  he  attacks  vice-  as  it  passes  by  in  triumph, 
not  as  it  breaks  into  a  conversation.  The  fall  of  empire, 
contempt  of  glory,  and  a  general  degeneracy  of  manners 
are  before  his  eyes  in  all  his  writings.  In  the  days  of 
Augustus,  to  have  talked  like  Juvenal  had  been  madness  ;  or 
in  those  of  Domitian,  like  Horace.  Morality  and  virtue  are 
every  where  recommended  in  Horace,  as  became  a  man  in  a 
polite  court,  from  the  beauty,  the  propriety,  the  convenience 
of  pursuing  them.  Vice  and  corruption  are  attacked  by 
Juvenal  in  a  style  which  denotes,  he  fears  he  shall  not  be 
heard  without  he  calls  to  them  in  their  own  lansfuasfe,  with 
a  barefaced  mention  of  the  villanies  and  obscenities  of  his 
contemporaries. 

This  accidental  talk  of  these  two  great  men  carries  me 
from  my  design,  which  was  to  tell  some  coxcombs  that  run 
about  this  town  with  the  name  of  smart  satirical  fellows,  that 
they  are  by  no  means  qualified  for  the  characters  they  pretend 
to,  of  being  severe  upon  other  men  ;  for  they  want  good-nature. 
There  is  no  foundation  in  them  for  arriving  at  what  they  aim 
at ;  and  they  may  as  well  pretend  to  flatter  and  rally  agreeably, 
without  being  good-natured. 

There  is  a  certain  impartiality  necessary  to  make  what  a 
man  says  bear  any  weight  with  those  he  speaks  to.  This  qual- 
ity, with  respect  to  men's  errors  and  vices,  is  never  seen  but  in 
good-natured  men.  They  have  ever  such  a  frankness  of  mind, 
and  benevolence  to  all  men,  that  they  cannot  receive  impres- 
sions of  unkindness  without  mature  deliberation  ;  and  writing: 
or  speaking  ill  of  a  man  upon  personal  considerations,  is  so 
irreparable  and  mean  an  injury,  that  no  one  possessed  of  this 


406  THE    TATLEIU  [No.  242 

quality  is  capable  of  doing  it  :  but  in  all  ages  there  have  been 
interpreters  to  authors  when  living,  of  the  same  genius  with 
the  commentators  into  whose  hands  they  fall  when  dead.  1 
dare  say  it  is  impossible  for  any  man  of  more  wit  than  one  of 
these  to  take  any  of  the  four-and- twenty  letters,  and  form  out 
of  them  a  name  to  describe  the  character  of  a  vicious  man 
with  greater  life,  but  one  of  these  would  immediately  cry, 
"  Mr.  Such-a-one  is  meant  in  that  place."  But  the  truth  of  it 
is,  satirists  describe  the  age,  and  backbiters  assign  their 
descriptions  to  private  men. 

In  all  terms  of  reproof,  when  the  sentence  appears  to  arise 
from  personal  hatred  or  passion,  it  is  not  then  made  the  cause 
of  mankind,  but  a  misunderstanding  between  two  persons. 
For  this  reason  the  representations  of  a  good-natured  man  bear 
a  pleasantry  in  them,  which  shews  there  is  no  malignity  at 
heart,  and  by  consequence  they  are  attended  to  by  his  hearers 
or  readers,  because  they  are  unprejudiced.  This  deference  is 
only  what  is  due  to  him  ;  for  no  man  thoroughly  nettled  can 
say  a  thing  general  enough,  to  pass  ofE"  with  the  air  of  an 
opinion  declared,  and  not  a  passion  gratified.  I  remember  a 
humorous  fellow  at  Oxford,  when  he  heard  any  one  had  spoken 
ill  of  him,  used  to  say,  "  I  will  not  take  my  revenge  of  him 
until  I  have  forgiven  him."  What  he  meant  by  this  was,  that 
he  would  not  enter  upon  this  subject  until  it  was  grown  as  in- 
different to  him  as  any  other :  and  I  have,  by  this  rule,  seen 
him  more  than  once  triumph  over  his  adversary  with  an 
inimitable  spirit  and  humour ;  for  he  came  to  the  assault 
against  a  man  full  of  sore  places,  and  he  himself  invulnerable. 

There  is  no  possibility  of  succeeding  in  a  satirical  way  of 
writing  or  speaking,  except  a  man  throws  himself  quite  out  of 
the  question.  It  is  great  vanity  to  think  any  one  will  attend 
to  a  thing,  because  it  is  your  quarrel.  You  must  make  your 
satire  the  concern  of  society  in  general,  if  you  would  have  it 
regarded.  When  it  is  so,  the  good  nature  of  a  man  of  wit,  will 
prompt  him  to  many  brisk  and  disdainful  sentiments  and 
replies,  to  which  all  the  malice  in  the  world  will  not  be  able  to 
repartee. 


No.  243.]  THE    RING    OF    GYGES.  407 

THE   RING  OF   GYGES. 

No.  243.     vSATURDAY,  October  2<s,  1710.    [Addison.] 

Infert  se  septus  nebnU,  mirabile  dictu  ! 

Per  medios,  miscetque  viris,  neque  cemitur  ulli. 

ViRG.  Mn.  i.  448. 

CJonceal'd  in  clouds,  prodigious  to  relate  ! 
He  mix'd,  unmark'd,  among  the  busy  throng, 
and  pass'd  unseen  along. 

I  HAVE  somewhere  made  mention  of  Gyges's  ring  ;  and 
intimated  to  my  reader,  that  it  was  at  present  in  my  possession, 
though  I  have  not  since  made  any  use  of  it.  The  tradition 
concerning  this  ring  is  very  romantic,  and  taken  notice  of  both 
by  Plato  and  Tully,  wlio  each  of  them  make  an  admirable  use 
of  it  for  the  advancement  of  morahty.  This  Gyges  was  the 
master  shepherd  to  king  Candaules.  As  he  was  wandering 
over  the  plains  of  Lydia,  he  saw  a  great  chasm  in  the  earth 
and  had  the  curiosity  to  enter  it.  After  having  pretty  far 
descended  into  it,  he  found  the  statue  of  a  horse  in  brass, 
with  doors  in  the  sides  of  it.  Upon  opening  them,  he 
found  the  body  of  a  dead  man,  bigger  than  ordinary,  with  a 
ring  upon  his  j&nger,  which  he  took  off,  and  put  it  upon  his 
own.  The  virtues  of  it  were  much  greater  than  he  at  first 
imagined  ;  for,  upon  his  going  into  the  assembly  of  shepherd.s, 
he  observed,  that  he  was  invisible  when  he  turned  the  stone  of 
the  ring  within  the  palm  of  his  hand,  and  visible  when  he 
turned  it  towards  his  company.  Had  Plato  and  Cicero  been  as 
well  versed  in  the  occult  sciences  as  I  am,  they  would  have  found 
a  great  deal  of  mystic  learning  in  this  tradition  :  but  it  is  impos- 
sible for  an  adept  to  be  understood  by  one  who  is  not  an  adept. 

As  for  myself,  I  have,  with  much  study  and  application, 
arrived  at  this  great  secret  of  making  myself  invisible,  and  by 
that  means  conveying  myself  where  I  please  ;  or,  to  speak  in 
Rosicrucian  lore,  I  have  entered  into  the  clefts  of  the  earth, 
discovered  the  brazen  horse,  and  robbed  the  dead  giant  of  his 
ring.     The  tradition  says  farther  of  Gyges,  that  l)y  the  means 

E    K 


408  THE    TATLEfi.  [No.  243. 

of  this  ring  he  gained  admission  into  the  most  retired  parts  of 
the  court,  and  made  such  use  of  those  opportunities,  that  he  at 
length  became  king  of  Lydia.  For  my  own  part,  I,  who  have 
always  rather  endeavoured  to  improve  my  mind  than  my 
fortune,  have  turned  this  ring  to  no  other  advantage,  than  to 
get  a  thorough  insight  into  the  ways  of  men,  and  to  make  such 
observations  upon  the  errors  of  others  as  may  be  useful  to 
the  public,  whatever  effect  they  may  have  upon  myself. 

About  a  week  ago,  not  being  able  to  sleep,  I  got  up,  and  put 
on  my  magical  ring  ;  and,  with  a  thought,  transported  myself 
into  a  chamber  w4iere  I  saw  a  light.  I  found  it  inhabited  by 
a  celebrated  beauty,  though  she  is  of  that  species  of  women 
which  we  call  a  slattern.  Her  head-dress  and  one  of  her  shoes 
lay  upon  a  chair,  her  petticoat  in  one  corner  of  the  room,  and 
her  girdle,  that  had  a  copy  of  verses  made  upon  it  but  the  day 
before,  with  her  thread  stockings,  in  the  middle  of  the  floor. 
I  was  so  foolislily  officious,  that  I  could  not  forbear  gathering 
up  her  cloaths  together,  to  lay  them  upon  the  chair  that  stood 
by  her  bed-side  ;  when,  to  my  great  surprise,  after  a  little 
muttering,  she  cried  out,  "  What  do  you  do  ?  Let  my 
petticoat  alone."  I  was  startled  at  first,  but  soon  found  that 
she  was  in  a  dream  ;  being  one  of  those  who,  to  use  Shake- 
speare's expression,  "  are  too  loose  of  tliought,"  that  they  utter 
in  their  sleep  every  thing  that  passes  in  their  imagination.  I 
left  the  apartment  of  this  female  rake,  and  Avent  into  her 
neighbour's,  where  there  lay  a  male  coquette.  He  had  a  bottle 
of  salts  hanging  over  his  head,  and  upon  the  table  by  his  bed- 
side Suckling's  poems,  with  a  little  heap  of  black  jDatches  on  it. 
His  snuff-box  was  within  reach  on  a  chair  :  but  while  I  was 
admiring  the  disposition  which  he  made  of  the  several  parts  of 
his  dress,  his  slumber  seemed  interrupted  by  a  pang  that  was 
accompanied  by  a  sudden  oath,  as  lie  turned  himself  over 
hastily  in  his  bed.  I  did  not  care  for  seeing  him  in  his  noc- 
turnal pains,  and  left  the  room. 

I  was  no  sooner  got  into  another  bed-chamber,  but  I  heard 
very  harsh  words  uttered  in  a  smooth  uniform  tone.  I  was 
amazed  to  hear  so  great  a  volubility  in  reproach,  and  thought 


No.  243.]  THE    RING    OF    GYGES.  409 

it  too  coherent  to  be  spoken  by  one  asleep  :  but,  upon  looking 
nearer,  I  saw  the  head-dress  of  the  person  who  spoke,  which 
shewed  her  to  be  a  female,  with  a  man  lying  by  her  side  broad 
awake,  and  as  quiet  as  a  lamb.  I  could  not  but  admire  his 
exemplary  patience,  and  discovered  by  his  whole  behaviour,  that 
he  was  then  lying  under  the  discipline  of  a  curtain-lecture. 

I  was  entertained  in  many  other  places  with  this  kind  of 
nocturnal  eloquence  ;  but  observed,  that  most  of  those  whom  I 
found  awake,  were  kept  so  either  by  envy  or  by  love.  Some 
of  these  were  fighting,  and  others  cursing,  in  soliloquy  ;  some 
hugged  their  pillows,  and  others  gnashed  their  teeth. 

The  covetous  I  likewise  found  to  be  very  wakeful  people.  I 
happened  to  come  into  a  room  where  one  of  them  lay  sick. 
His  physician  and  his  wife  were  in  close  whisper  near  his  bed- 
side. I  overheard  the  doctor  say  to  the  poor  gentlewoman, 
**  he  cannot  possibly  live  until  five  in  the  morning."  She 
received  it  like  the  mistress  of  a  family,  prepared  for  all  events. 
At  the  same  instant  in  came  a  servant-maid,  who  said, 
*' Madam,  the  undertaker  is  below,  according  to  your  order." 
The  words  were  scarce  out  of  her  mouth,  when  the  sick  man 
cried  out  with  a  feeble  voice,  "  Pray,  doctur,  how  went  Bank- 
stock  to-day  at  'Change  ?  "  This  melancholy  subject  made  me 
too  serious  for  diverting  myself  farther  this  way.  As  I  was 
going  home,  I  saw  a  light  in  a  garret,  and  entering  into  it, 
heard  a  voice  crying,  '  and,  hand,  stand,  band,  fanned,  tanned." 
I  concluded  him  by  this,  and  the  furniture  of  his  room,  to  be  a 
lunatic ;  but,  upon  listening  a  little  longer,  perceived  it  was  a 
poet,  writing  an  heroic  upon  the  ensuing  peace.* 

It  was  now  towards  morning,  an  hour  when  spirits,  witches, 
and  conjurers,  are  obliged  to  retire  to  their  own  apartments, 
and,  feeling  the  influence  of  it,  I  was  hastening  home,  when  I 
saw  a  man  had  got  half  way  into  a  neighbour's  house.  I 
immediately  called  to  him,  and  turning  my  ring,  appeared  in 
my  proper  person.     There  is   something   magisterial   in   the 

*  The  person  alluded  to  here  was  perhaps  Thomas  Tickell,  who  lived  at  this 
time  under  Addison's  roof,  and  is  supposed  to  have  been  mentioned  before, 
under  the  name  of  Tom  Spindle. 

K  E  2 


410  THE    TATLER.  [No.  246. 

aspect  of  the  Bickerstaffs,  which  made  him  run  away  in  con- 
fusion. 

As  I  took  a  turn  or  two  in  my  own  lodging,  I  was  thinking 
that,  old  as  I  was,  I  need  not  go  to  bed  alone,  but  that  it  was 
in  my  power  to  marry  the  finest  lady  in  this  kingdom,  if  I 
would  wed  her  with  this  ring.  For  what  a  figure  would  she 
that  should  have  it  make  at  a  visit,  with  so  perfect  a  know- 
ledge as  this  would  give  her  of  all  the  scandal  in  the  town  ? 
But,  instead  of  endeavouring  to  dispose  of  myself  and  it  in 
matrimony,  I  resolved  to  lend  it  to  my  loving  friend,  the 
author  of  the  "  Atalantis,  "  *  to  furnish  a  new  "  vSecret  History 
of  Secret  Memoirs. 


BEIDGET  HOWDTE. 

No.  245.    THURSDAY,  November  2,  1710.     [Steele.] 

The  lady  hereafter-mentioned,  having  come  to  me  in  very 
great  haste,  and  paid  me  much  above  the  usual  fee,  as  a 
cunning-man,  to  find  her  stolen  goods,  and  also  having 
approved  my  late  discourse  of  advertisements  obliged  me  to 
draw  up  this,  and  insert  it  in  the  body  of  my  paper. 

ADVERTISEMENT. 

Whereas  Bridget  Howd'ye,  late  servant  to  the  lady  Fardin- 
gale,  a  short,  thick,  lively,  hard-favoured  wench  of  about 
twenty-nine  years  of  age,  her  eyes  small  and  bleared,  and  nose 
very  broad  at  bottom,  and  turning  up  at  the  end,  her  mouth 
wide,  and  lips  of  an  unusual  thickness,  two  teeth  out  before, 
the  rest  black  and  uneven,  the  tip  of  her  left  ear  being  of  a 
mouse  colour,  her  voice  loud  and  shrill,  quick  of  speech,  and 
something  of  a  Welsh  accent,  withdrew  herself  on  Wednesday 
last  from  her  ladyship's  dwelling-house,  and,  with  the  help  of 
her  consorts,  carried  off  the  following  goods  of  her  said  lady, 

*  Mr».  De  la  Riviere  Man  ley. 


No.  245.]  BRIDGET    HOWD'YE.  411 

viz.  a  thick  ^yadded  callico  wrapper,  a  inusk-coloured  velvet 
mantle  lined  with  squirrel  skins,  eight  night-shifts,  four  pair  of 
silk  stockings  curiously  darned,  six  pair  of  laced  shoes,  new  and 
old,  with  the  heels  of  half  two  inches  higher  than  their  fellows  ; 
a  quilted  petticoat  of  the  largest  size,  and  one  of  canvas  and 
whale-bone  hoops  ;  tliree  pair  of  stays,  bolstered  below  the  left 
shoulder,  two  pair  of  hips  of  the  newest  fashion,  six  round- 
about aprons  with  pockets,  and  four  striped  muslin  night-rails 
very  little  frayed  ;  a  silver  pot  for  coffee  or  chocolate,  the  lid 
much  bruised  ;  a  broad  brimmed  flat  silver  plate  for  sugar 
with  Rhenish  wine  *  ;  a  silver  ladle  for  plumb-porridge  ;  a 
silver  cheese-toaster  with  three  tongues,  an  ebony  handle,  and 
silvering  at    the   end  ;  a  silver  posnet   to   butter  eggs  ;  one 
caudle  and  two  cordial-water  cups,  two  cocoa-cups,  and   an 
ostrich's  egg^  with  rims  and  feet  of  silver,  a  marrow-spoon 
with  a  scoop  at  the  other  end,  a  silver  orange-strainer,  eight 
sweet-meat  spoons  made  with  forks  at  the  end,  an  agate-handle 
knife  and  fork  in  a  sheath,  a  silver  tongue-scraper,  a  silver 
tobacco-box,  with  a  tulip  graved  on  the  top  ;  and  a  Bible  bound 
in   shagreen,  with  gilt  leaves  and  clasps,  never  opened  but 
once.     Also  a  small  cabinet,  with  six  drawers  inlaid  with  red 
tortoise-shell,  and  brass  gilt  ornaments  at  the  four  corners,  in 
which  were  two  leather  forehead-cloaths,  three  pair  of  oiled 
dog-skin  gloves,  seven  cakes  of  superfine  Spanish  wool,  half-a- 
dozen  of  Portugal  dishes,  and  a  quire  of  paper  from  thence  ; 
two  pair  of  bran-new  plumpers,  four  black-lead  combs,  three 
pair  of  fashionable  eye-brows,  two  sets  of  ivory  teeth,  little  the 
worse  for  wearing,  and  one  pair  of  box  for  common  use  ;  Adam 
and  Eve  in  bugle-work,  without  fig-leaves,  upon  canvas,  curi- 
ously wrought  with  her  ladyship's  own  hand  ;  several   filli- 
grane  curiosities  ;  a  crotchet  of  one  hundi'ed  and  twenty-two 
diamonds,  set  strong  and  deep  in  silver,  with  a  rump-jewel 
after  the  same  fashion  ;  bracelets  of  braided  hair,  pomander 
and  seed-pearl  ;  a  large  old  purple  velvet  purse  embroidered, 
and  shutting  with  a  spring,  containing  two  pictures  in  minia- 

*  This  was  the  wine  denoted  by  the  name  of  Sack.     It  was  so  called  from 
its  being  imported  in  sacks,  or  borachios,  and  it  was  used  with  sugar. 


412  THE    TATLER.  [No.  245. 

ture,  the  features  visible  ;  a  broad  thick  gold  ring  with  a  hand- 
in-hand  engraved  upon  it,  and  within  this  poesy,  "  While  life 
does  last,  I'll  hold  thee  fast ; "  another  set  round  with  small 
rubies  and  sparks,  six  wanting ;  another  of  Turkey  stone, 
cracked  through  the  middle  ;  an  Elizabeth  and  four  Jacobus's, 
one  guinea,  the  first  of  the  coin,  an  angel  with  a  hole  bored 
through,  a  broken  half  of  a  Spanish  piece  of  gold,  a  crown- 
piece  with  the  breeches,  an  old  nine-pence  bent  both  ways  by 
Lilly  the  almanack  maker  for  luck  at  langteraloo,  and  twelve 
of  the  shells  called  blackmoor's  teeth  ;  one  small  amber  box 
with  apoplectic  balsam,  and  one  silver  gilt  of  a  larger  size  for 
cashu  and  carraw^ay  comfits,  to  be  taken  at  long  sermons,  the 
lid  enamelled,  representing  a  Cupid  fishing  for  hearts,  with  a 
piece  of  gold  on  his  hook  ;  over  his  head  this  rhyme,  "  Only 
with  gold.  You  me  shall  hold."  In  the  lower  drawer  was  a 
large  new  gold  repeating  watch  made  by  a  Frenchman  ;  a  gold 
chain,  and  all  the  proper  appurtenances  hung  upon  steel 
swivels,  to  wit,  lockets  with  the  hair  of  dead  and  living  lovers, 
seals  with  arms,  emblems  and  devices  cut  in  cornelian,  agate, 
and  onyx,  with  cupids,  hearts,  darts,  altars,  flames,  rocks, 
pickaxes,  roses,  thorns,  and  sun-flowers ;  as  also  variety  of  in- 
genious French  mottos  ;  together  with  gold  etuys  for  quills, 
scissars,  needles,  thimbles,  and  a  spunge  dipped  in  Hungary 
water,  left  but  the  night  before  by  a  young  lady  going  upon  a 
frolic  incog.  There  was  also  a  bundles  of  letters,  dated 
between  the  years  one  thousand  six  hundred  and  seventy  and 
one  thousand  six  hundred  and  eighty  two,  most  of  them  signed 
Philander,  the  rest  Strephon,  Amyntas,  Corydon,  and  Adonis  ; 
together  with  a  collection  of  receipts  to  make  pastes  for  the 
hands,  pomatums,  lip- salves,  white-pots,  beautifying  cream, 
water  of  talc  *  and  frog  spawn  water ;  decoctions  for  clearing 
the  complexion,  and  an  approved  medicine  to  procure  abor- 
tion. 

Whoever  can  discover  the  aforesaid  goods,  so  that  they 

*  Water  of  talc  was  in  repute  as  a  cosmetic  among  the  ladies  of  Ben  Jonson's 
age.  It  had  its  name  from  curing  a  malady  incident  to  sheep,  which  was  so 
called. 


No.  245.]  BRIDGET    HOWD'YE.  413 

may  be  had  again,  shall  have  fifty  guineas  for  the  whole,  or 
proportionable  for  any  part. 

N.B.  Her  ladyship  is  pleased  to  promise  ten  pounds  for  the 
paeket  of  letters  over  and  above,  or  five  for  Phihander's  only, 
being  her  first  love.  "  My  lady  bestows  those  of  Strephon  to 
the  finder,  being  so  written,  that  they  may  serve  to  any  woman 
who  reads  them." 

P.S.  As  I  am  a  patron  of  persons  who  have  no  othei'  friend 
to  apply  to,  I  cannot  suppress  the  following  complaint  : 

"  Sir, 

"  I  am  a  blackmoor  boy,  and  have,  by  my  lady's 
order,  been  christened  by  the  chaplain.  The  good  man  has 
gone  farther  with  me,  and  told  me  a  great  deal  of  good  news  ; 
as,  that  I  am  as  good  as  my  lady  herself  as  I  am  a  Christian, 
and  many  other  things  :  but  for  all  this,  the  parrot,  who  came 
over  with  me  from  our  country,  is  as  much  esteemed  by  her  as 
I  am.  Besides  this,  the  shock-dog  has  a  collar  that  cost 
almost  as  much  as  mine.  I  desire  also  to  know,  whether  now 
I  am  a  Christian,  I  am  obliged  to  di'ess  like  a  Turk,  and  wear  a 
turban.     I  am,  sir, 

"  Your  most  humble  servant, 

POMPEY.  * 

*  Blackamoor  boys  were  at  tins  date  in  much  request  as  pages  to  ladies  of 
fashion.  They  were  generally  named  Porapey.  and  wore  a  silver  collar  round 
their  neck. 


414  THE    TATLER.  [No.  247. 

ADVICE   TO  A  NOKTHERN  LASS. 

No.  247.     TUESDAY,  November   7,  1710.     [Steele.] 

Edepol,  noe  nos  Eequ^  sum  us  oinues  invisse  viris 
Propter  paucas,  quas  omnes  faciunt  dignaj  ut  videaniur  malo. 

Ter.  Hecyr.  II.  iii.  1. 

How  unjustly 
Do  husbands  stretch  their  censure  to  all  wives 
For  the  offences  of  a  few,  whose  vices 
Reflect  dishonour  on  the  rest ! 

By  Mrs.  Jexny  Distaff,  Half-sister  to  Mr.  Bickerstaff. 

My  brother  having  written  the  above  piece  of  Latin, 
desired  me  to  take  care  of  the  rest  of  the  ensuing  paper. 
Towards  this  he  bid  me  answer  the  following  letter,  and  said, 
nothing  I  could  write  properly  on  the  subject  of  it  would  be 
disagreeable  to  the  motto.  It  is  the  cause  of  my  sex,  and  I 
therefore  enter  upon  it  with  great  alacrity.  The  epistle  is 
literally  thus  : 

'*  Mr.  Bickerstaff,  Edenburgh,  Oct.  23. 

"  I  presume  to  lay  before  you  an  affair  of  mine,  and 
begs  you'le  be  very  sinceir  in  giving  me  your  judgment  and 
advice  in  this  matter,  which  is  as  follows  : 

'^A  very  agreeable  young  gentleman,  who  is  endowed  with 
all  the  good  qualities  that  can  make  a  man  complete,  has 
til  is  long  time  maid  love  to  me  in  the  most  passionat  manner 
that  was  posable.  He  has  left  nothing  unsaid  to  make  me 
believe  his  affections  real  ;  and,  in  his  letters,  expressed  him- 
self so  hansomly  and  so  tenderly,  that  I  had  all  the  reason 
imaginable  to  believe  him  sincere.  In  short,  he  positively 
has  promised  me  he  would  marry  me  :  but  I  find  all  he  said 
nothing  ;  for  when  the  question  was  put  to  him,  he  would 
not ;  but  still  would  continue  my  humble  servant,  and  would 
go  on  at  the  ould  rate,  repeating  the  assurences  of  his  fidelity, 
and  at  the  same  time  has  none  in  him.     He  now  writs  to  me 


Xo.  247.]  ADVICE    TO    A    XORTHERX    LASS.  415 

in  the  same  endearing  style  he  ust  to  do,  would  have  me  spake 
to  no  man  but  himself.  His  estate  is  in  his  own  hand,  his 
father  being  dead.  My  fortune  at  my  own  disposal,  mine 
being  also  dead,  and  to  the  full  answers  his  estate.  Pray, 
sir,  be  ingeinous,  and  tell  me  cordially,  if  you  dout  think  I 
shall  do  myself  an  injury  if  I  keep  company,  or  a  corospon- 
dance  any  longer  with  this  gentleman.  I  hope  you  will  faver 
an  honest  North-Britain,  as  I  am,  with  your  advice  in  this 
amour ;  for  I  am  resolved  just  to  follow  your  directions. 
Sir,  you  will  do  me  a  sensable  pleasure,  and  very  great  honour, 
if  you  will  please  to  insirt  this  poor  scrole,  with  your  answer 
to  it,  in  your  Tatler.  Pray  fail  not  to  give  me  your  answer  ; 
for  on  it  depends  the  happiness  of 

**  Disconsolat  Al:m:eira." 

"  Madam, 

*'  I  have  frequently  read  over  your  letter,  and  am  of 
opinion,  that,  as  lamentable  as  it  is,  it  is  the  most  common 
of  any  evil  that  attends  our  sex.  I  am  very  much  troubled 
for  the  tenderness  you  express  towards  your  lover,  but  rejoice 
at  the  same  time  that  you  can  so  far  surmount  your  inclina- 
tion for  him,  as  to  resolve  to  dismiss  him  when  you  have  my 
brother's  opinion  for  it.  His  sense  of  the  matter  he  desired 
me  to  communicate  to  you.  Oh  Almeira  !  the  common  failing 
of  our  sex  is  to  value  the  merit  of  our  lovers  rather  from  the 
grace  of  their  address,  than  the  sincerity  of  their  hearts.  He 
has  expressed  himself  so  handsomely  !  Can  you  say  that,  after 
you  have  reason  to  doubt  his  truth  ?  It  is  a  melancholy 
thing,  that  in  this  circumstance  of  love,  which  is  the  most 
important  of  all  others  in  female  life,  we  women  who  are, 
they  say,  always  weak,  are  still  weakest.  The  true  way  of 
valuing  a  man,  is  to  consider  his  reputation  among  the  men. 
For  want  of  this  necessary  rule  towards  our  conduct,  when  it 
is  too  late,  we  find  ourselves  married  to  the  outcasts  of  that 
sex  ;  and  it  is  generally  from  being  disagreeable  among  men, 
that  fellows  endeavour  to  make  themselves  pleasing  to  us. 
The  little  accomplishments  of  coming  into  a  room  with  a  good 


416  THE    TATLER.  [Xo.  247. 

air,  and  telling,  while  they  are  with  us,  what  we  cannot  hear 
among  ourselves,  nsually  make  up  the  whole  of  a  w^oman's 
man's  merit.  But  if  we,  when  we  began  to  reflect  upon  our 
lovers,  in  the  first  place,  considered  what  figures  they  make  in 
the  camp,  at  the  bar,  on  the  excliange,  in  their  country,  or  at 
court,  we  should  behold  them  in  quite  another  view  than  at 
present. 

"  Were  we  to  behave  ourselves  according  to  this  rule,  we 
should  not  have  the  just  imputation  of  favouring  the  silliest 
of  mortals,  to  the  great  scandal  of  the  wisest,  who  value  our 
favour  as  it  advances  their  pleasure,  not  their  reputation.  In 
a  word,  madam,  if  you  would  judge  aright  in  love,  you  must 
look  upon  it  as  in  a  case  of  friendship.  AYere  this  gentleman 
treating  with  you  for  any  thing  but  yourself,  when  you  had 
consented  to  his  offer,  if  he  fell  oflF,  you  would  call  him  a  cheat 
and  an  impostor.  There  is,  therefore,  nothing  left  for  you  to 
do  but  to  despise  him,  and  yourself  for  doing  it  with  regret. 

I  am,  Madam,  &c." 

I  have  heard  it  often  argued  in  conversation,  that  this  evil 
practice  is  owing  to  the  perverted  taste  of  the  wits  in  the  last 
generation.  A  libertine  on  the  throne  could  very  easily  make 
the  language  and  the  fashion  turn  his  own  way.  Hence  it 
is  that  woman  is  treated  as  a  mistress,  and  not  a  wife.  It  is 
from  the  writings  of  those  times,  and  the  traditional  accounts 
of  the  debauches  of  their  men  of  pleasure,  that  the  coxcombs 
now-a-days  take  upon  them,  forsooth,  to  be  false  swains,  and 
perjured  lovers.  Methinks  I  feel  all  the  woman  rise  in  me, 
when  I  reflect  upon  the  nauseous  rogues  that  pretend  to 
deceive  us.  AVretches  that  can  never  have  it  in  their  power 
to  over-reach  any  thing  living  but  their  mistresses  !  In  the 
name  of  goodness,  if  we  are  designed  by  nature  as  suitable 
companions  to  the  other  sex,  why  are  we  not  treated  accord- 
ingly ?  If  we  have  merit,  as  some  allow,  why  is  it  not  as 
base  in  men  to  injure,  as  one  another  ?  If  we  are  the 
insignificants  that  others  call  us,  where  is  the  triumph  in 
deceiving  us  ?      But  when  I  look  at  the  bottom  of  this  disaster, 


Xo.  247.]  ADVICE    TO    A    NORTHERN    LASS.  117 

and  recollect  tlie  many  of  luy  acquaintance  whom  I  have 
known  in  the  same  condition  with  the  '*  Northern  Lass  "  that 
occasions  this  discourse,  I  must  own  I  have  ever  found  the 
perfidiousness  of  men  has  been  generally  owing  to  ourselves, 
and  we  have  contributed  to  our  own  deceit.  The  truth  is, 
we  do  not  conduct  ourselves,  as  we  are  courted,  but  as  we 
are  inclined.  When  we  let  our  imaginations  take  this  un- 
bridled swing,  it  is  not  he  that  acts  best  is  most  lovely,  but 
he  that  is  most  lovely  acts  best.  When  our  humble  servants 
make  their  addresses,  we  do  not  keep  ourselves  enough  dis- 
engaged to  be  judges  of  their  merit  ;  and  we  seldom  give  our 
judgment  of  our  lover,  until  we  have  lost  our  judgment  for 
him. 

While  Clarinda  was  passionately  attended  and  addressed  to 
by  Strephon,  who  is  a  man  of  sense  and  knowledge  in  the 
world,  and  Oassio,  who  has  a  plentiful  fortune,  and  an  excel- 
lent understanding,  she  fell  in  love  with  Damon  at  a  ball. 
From  that  moment,  she  that  was  before  the  most  reasonable 
creature  of  all  my  acquaintance,  cannot  hear  Strephon  speak, 
but  it  is  something  "so  out  of  the  way  of  ladies'  conversation  : " 
and  Cassio  has  never  since  opened  his  mouth  before  us,  but 
she  whispers  me,  "How  seldom  do  riches  and  sense  go 
together  ! "  The  issue  of  all  this  is,  that  for  the  love  of 
Damon,  who  has  neither  experience,  understanding,  nor 
wealth,  she  despises  those  advantages  in  the  other  two  which 
she  finds  wanting  in  her  lover  ;  or  else  thinks  he  has  them 
for  no  other  reason  but  because  he  is  her  lover.  This,  and 
many  other  instances,  may  be  given  in  this  town  ;  but  I  hope 
thus  much  may  suffice  to  prevent  the  growth  of  such  evils  at 
Edinburgh. 


418  THE    TATLER.  [No.  249. 

ADVENTUEES  OF  A  SHILLING. 

No.  249.     SATURDAY,  November  11,  1710.     [Addison.] 

Per  varios  casus,  per  tot  discrimina  rerum, 
Tendimus. Yirq.  ^n.  i.  208. 

Through  various  hazards,  and  events,  we  move. 

I  WAS  last  night  visited  bv  a  friend  of  mine,  who  has  an 
inexhaustible  fund  of  discourse,  and  never  fails  to  entertain 
his  company  with  a  variety  of  thoughts  and  hints  that  are 
altogether  new  and  uncommon.  Whether  it  were  in  com- 
plaisance to  my  way  of  living,  or  his  real  opinion,  he  advanced 
the  following  paradox  :  that  it  required  much  greater  talents 
to  fill  up  and  become  a  retired  life  than  a  life  of  business. 
Upon  this  occasion  he  rallied  very  agreeably  the  busy  men  of 
the  age,  who  only  value  themselves  for  being  in  motion,  and 
passing  through  a  series  of  trifling  and  insignificant  actions. 
In  the  heat  of  his  discourse,  seeing  a  piece  of  money  lying  on 
my  table,  "  I  defy,"  says  he,  ^'  any  of  these  active  persons  to 
produce  half  the  adventures  that  this  twelve-penny  piece  has 
been  engaged  in,  were  it  possible  for  him  to  give  us  an  account 
of  his  life." 

My  fi'iend's  talk  made  so  odd  an  impression  upon,  my  mind, 
that  soon  after  I  was  a-bed  I  fell  insensibly  into  an  unaccount- 
able reverie,  that  had  neither  moral  nor  design  in  it,  and  cannot 
be  so  properly  called  a  dream  as  a  delirium. 

!Methought  the  shilling  that  lay  upon  the  table  reared  itself 
upon  its  edge,  and,  turning  the  face  towards  me,  opened  its 
mouth,  and  in  a  soft  silver  sound,  gave  me  the  following  account 
of  his  life  and  adventures  : 

''  I  was  born,"  says  he,  "on  the  side  of  a  mountain,  near  a 
little  village  of  Peru,  and  made  a  voyage  to  England  in  an  ingot 
under  the  convoy  of  sir  Francis  Drake.  I  was,  soon  after  my 
arrival,  taken  out  of  my  Indian  habit,  refined,  naturalized, 
and  put  into  the  British  mode,  with  the  face  of  queen  Elizabeth 
on  one  side,  and  the  arms  of  the  country  on  the  other.     Being 


Ko.  249.]  ADVENTrRES    OF    A    SHILLING.  419 

thus  equipped,  I  found  iu  me  a  wonderful  inclination  to  ramble, 
and  visit  all  the  parts  of  the  new  world  into  which  I  was 
brought.  The  people  very  much  favoured  my  natural  disposi- 
tion, and  shifted  me  so  fast  from  hand  to  hand,  that,  before  I 
was  five  years  old,  I  had  travelled  into  almost  every  corner  of 
the  nation.  But  in  the  beginning  of  my  sixth  year,  to  my 
unspeakable  grief,  I  fell  into  the  hands  of  a  miserable  old 
fellow,  who  clapped  me  into  an  iron  chest,  w^here  I  found  five 
hundred  more  of  my  own  quality  who  lay  under  the  same  con- 
finement. The  only  relief  we  had,  was  to  be  taken  out  and 
counted  over  in  the  fresh  air  every  morning  and  evening. 
After  an  imprisonment  of  several  years,  we  heard  somebody 
knocking  at  our  chest,  and  breaking  it  open  with  an  hammer. 
This  we  found  was  the  old  man's  heir,  who,  as  his  father  lay 
dying,  was  so  good  as  to  come  to  our  release.  He  separated 
us  that  very  day.  What  was  the  fate  of  my  companions  I 
know  not  :  as  for  myself,  I  was  sent  to  the  apothecary's  shop 
for  a  pint  of  sack.  The  apothecary  gave  me  to  an  herb- 
woman,  the  herb-woman  to  a  butcher,  the  butcher  to  a 
brewer,  and  the  brewer  to  his  wife,  who  made  a  present  of 
me  to  a  nonconformist  preacher.  After  this  manner  I  made 
my  way  merrily  through  the  world ;  for,  as  I  told  you  before, 
we  shillings  love  nothing  so  much  as  travelling.  I  some- 
times fetched  in  a  shoulder  of  mutton,  sometimes  a  play- 
book,  and  often  had  the  satisfaction  to  treat  a  tern  pier  at  a 
twelve-penny  ordinary,  or  carry  him  with  three  friends  to 
Westminster-hall . 

*'  In  the  midst  of  this  pleasant  progress  which  I  made  from 
place  to  place,  I  was  arrested  by  a  superstitious  old  w^oman, 
who  shut  me  up  in  a  greasy  purse,  in  pursuance  of  a  foolish 
saying,  'that  while  she  kept  a  queen  Elizabeth's  shilling 
about  her,  she  would  never  be  without  money.'  I  contiuued 
here  a  close  prisoner  for  many  months,  until  at  last  I  was 
exchanged  for  eight- and- forty  farthings. 

"  I  thus  rambled  from  pocket  to  pocket  until  the  beginning 
of  the  civil  wars,  when,  to  my  shame  be  it  spoken,  I  was  em- 
ployed in  raising  soldiers  against  the  king  :  for,  being  of  a  very 


420  THE    TATLER.  [No.  249. 

tempting  breadth,  a  serjeant  made  use  of  me  to  inveigle  country 
fellows,  and  lift  them  into  the  service  of  the  Parliament. 

"  As  soon  as  he  had  made  one  man  sure,  his  way  was,  to 
oblige  him  to  take  a  shilling  of  a  more  liomely  figure,  and  then 
practice  the  same  trick  upon  another.  Tims  I  continued  doing 
great  mischief  to  the  crown,  until  my  officer  chancing  one 
morning  to  walk  abroad  earlier  than  ordinary,  sacrificed  me  to 
his  pleasures,  and  made  use  of  me  to  seduce  a  milk-maid. 
This  wench  bent  me,  and  gave  me  to  her  sweetheart,  applying 
more  properly  than  she  intended  the  usual  form  of,  '  to  my 
love  and  from  my  love.'  This  ungenerous  gallant  marrying 
her  within  a  few  days  after,  pawned  me  for  a  dram  of  brandy ; 
and  drinking  me  out  next  day,  I  was  beaten  flat  with  an 
hammer,  and  again  set  a-running. 

"  After  many  adventures,  which  it  would  be  tedious  to  relate, 
I  was  sent  to  a  young  spendthrift,  in  company  with  the  will 
of  his  deceased  father.  The  young  fellow,  who  I  found  was 
very  extravagant,  gave  great  demonstrations  of  joy  at  receiving 
the  will  ;  but  opening  it,  he  found  himself  disinherited,  and 
cut  off  from  the  possession  of  a  fair  estate  by  virtue  of  my  being 
made  a  present  to  him.  This  put  him  into  such  a  passion,  that, 
after  having  taken  me  in  his  hand,  and  cursed  me,  he  squirred 
me  away  from  him  as  far  as  he  could  fling  me.  I  chanced  to 
light  in  an  unfrequented  place  under  a  dead  wall,  where  I  lay 
undiscovered  and  useless  during  the  usurpation  of  Oliver 
Cromwell. 

"  About  a  year  after  the  King's  return,  a  poor  cavalier,  that 
was  walking  there  about  dinner-time,  fortunately  cast  his  eye 
upon  me,  and,  to  the  great  joy  of  us  both,  carried  me  to  a 
cook's  shop,  where  he  dined  upon  me,  and  drank  the  King's 
health.  When  I  came  again  into  the  world,  I  found  that  I  had 
been  happier  in  my  retirement  than  I  thought,  having  probably 
by  that  means  escaped  wearing  a  monstrous  pair  of  breeches.* 

"  Being  now  of  great  credit  and  antiquity,  I  was  rather  looked 

*  The  two  shields  oa  Oliver's  Shilling,  vulgarly  called  Breeches,  somewhat 
reserable  the  vast  trunk  hose  with  which,  and  a  monstrous  ruli',  James  I. 
went  out  hunting. 


No.  249.]  ADVENTUEES    OF    A    SHILLING.  421 

upon  as  a  medal  than  an  ordinary  coin  ;  for  which  reason  a 
gamester  laid  hold  of  me,  and  converted  me  to  a  counter, 
havins:  2:ot  too:ether  some  dozens  of  us  for  that  use.  AYe  led  a 
melancholy  life  in  his  possession,  being  busy  at  those  hours 
wherein  current  coin  is  at  rest,  and  partaking  the  fate  of  our 
master  ;  being  in  a  few  moments  valued  at  a  crown,  a  pound,  or 
sixpence,  according  to  the  situation  in  which  the  fortune  of  the 
cards  placed  us.  I  had  at  length  the  good  luck  to  see  my 
master  break,  by  which  means  I  was  again  sent  abroad  under 
my  primitive  denomination  of  a  shilling. 

"  I  shall  pass  over  many  other  accidents  of  less  moment,  and 
hasten  to  that  fatal  catastrophe  when  I  fell  into  the  hands  of 
an  artist,  who  conveyed  me  under  ground,  and,  with  an  unmer- 
ciful pair  of  sheers,  cut  off  my  titles,  clipped  my  brims, 
retrenched  my  shape,  rubbed  me  to  my  inmost  ring  ;  and,  in 
short,  so  spoiled  and  pillaged  me,  that  he  did  not  leave  me 
worth  a  groat.  You  may  think  what  confusion  I  was  in  to  see 
myself  thus  curtailed  and  disfigured.  I  should  have  been 
ashamed  to  have  shewn  my  head,  had  not  all  my  old  acquain- 
tance been  reduced  to  the  same  shameful  figure,  excepting  some 
few  that  were  punched  through  the  belly.  In  the  midst  of 
this  general  calamity,  when  every  body  thought  our  misfortune 
irretrievable,  and  our  case  desperate,  we  were  thrown  into  the 
furnace  together,  and,  as  it  often  happens  with  cities  rising  out 
of  a  fire,  appeared  with  greater  beauty  and  lustre  than  we 
could  ever  boast  of  before.  What  has  happened  to  me  since 
this  change  of  sex  which  you  now  see,  I  shall  take  some  other 
opportunity  to  relate.  In  the  mean  time,  I  shall  only  repeat 
two  adventures,  as  being  very  extraordinary,  and  neither  of 
them  having  ever  happened  to  me  above  once  in  my  life.  The 
first  was,  my  being  in  a  poet's  pocket,  who  Avas  so  taken  with  the 
brightness  and  novelty  of  my  appearance,  that  it  gave  occasion 
to  the  finest  burlesque  poem  in  the  British  language,  entituled, 
from  me,  '  The  Splendid  Shilling.'  *  The  second  adventure, 
which  I  must  not  omit,  happened  to  me  in  the  year  1703,  when 

*  By  Jolin  Philips,  a  poet  of  considerable  eiuiueuce. 


422  THE    TATLEIL  [No.  250. 

I  was  given  away  in  charity  to  a  blind  man  ;  but  indeed  this 
was  by  mistake,  the  person  who  gave  me  having  thrown  me 
heedlessly  into  the  hat  *  among  a  pennyworth  of  farthings." 


ESTABLISHMENT  OF  THE  COUKT  OF 

HONOUE. 

No.  250.    TUESDAY,  November  14,  1710.    [Addison.] 

Scis  enim  justum  gemina  suspenaeve  lance 

Ancij)itis  libr»  ?  Pers.  Sat.  iv.  10. 

Know'st  thou,  with  equal  hand,  to  hold  the  scale  ? 

I  LAST  winter  erected  a  court  of  justice  for  the  correcting  of 
several  enormities  in  dress  and  behaviour,  which  are  not  cog- 
nizable in  any  other  courts  of  this  realm.  The  vintner's  case, 
which  I  there  tried,  is  still  fresh  in  every  man's  memory. 
That  of  the  petticoat  gave  also  a  general  satisfaction  :  not  to 
mention  the  more  important  points  of  the  cane  and  perspective  ; 
in  which,  if  I  did  not  give  judgments  and  decrees  according 
to  the  strictest  rules  of  equity  and  justice,  I  can  safely  say,  I 
acted  according  to  the  best  of  my  understanding.  But  as  for 
the  proceedings  of  that  court,  I  shall  refer  my  reader  to  an 
account  of  them,  written  by  my  secretary ;  which  is  now  in 
the  press,  and  will  shortly  be  published  under  the  title  of 
LiUie's  "  Reports." 

As  I  last  year  presided  over  a  court  of  justice,  it  is  my  in- 
tention this  year  to  set  myself  at  the  head  of  a  court  of  honour. 
There  is  no  court  of  this  nature  any  where  at  present,  except 
in  France  ;  where,  according  to  the  best  of  my  intelligence,  it 
consists  of  such  only  as  are  marshals  of  that  kingdom.  I  am 
likewise  informed,  that  there  is  not  one  of  that  honourable 
board  at  present,  who  has  not  been  driven  out  of  the  field  by 

*  The  hat  and  this  Shilling  were,  it  seems,  nearly  co-evaJ  ;  for  Granger 
says,  that  "  the  first  English  portrait  he  remembered  to  have  seen  Avitli  a  liat, 
was  cue  of  a  Mr.  Brightman,  in  the  reign  ot  queen  Elizabeth.'' 


No.  250.]     ESTABLISHMENT   OF   COURT    OF   HONOUR.  423 

the  duke  of  Marlborough  :  but  whether  this  be  only  an  acci- 
dental or  a  necessary  qualification,  I  must  confess,  I  am  nob 
able  to  determine. 

As  for  the  court  of  honour  of  which  I  am  here  speaking,  I 
intend  to  sit  myself  in  it  as  president,  with  several  men  of 
honour  on  my  right-hand,  and  women  of  virtue  on  my  left,  as 
my  assistants.  The  first  place  on  the  bench  I  have  given  to 
an  old  Tangereen  captain  with  a  wooden  leg.  The  second  is  a 
gentleman  of  a  long  twisted  periwig  without  a  curl  in  it,  a 
muff  with  very  little  hair  upon  it,  and  a  threadbare  coat  with 
new  buttons  ;  being  a  person  of  great  worth,  and  second 
brother  to  a  man  of  quality.  The  third  is  a  gentleman-usher, 
extremely  well  read  in  romances,  and  grandson  to  one  of  the 
greatest  wits  in  Germany,  who  was  some  time  master  of  the 
ceremonies  to  the  duke  of  Wolfembuttle. 

As  for  those  who  sit  farther  on  my  right-hand,  as  it  is  usual 
in  ptiblic  courts,*  they  are  such  as  will  fill  up  the  number  of 
faces  upon  the  bench,  and  serve  rather  for  ornament  than  use. 

The  chief  upon  my  left-hand  are — • 

An  old  maiden  lady,  that  preserves  some  of  the  best  blood  of 
England  in  her  veins. 

A  Welsh  woman  of  a  little  stature,  but  high  spirit. 

An  old  prude,  that  has  censured  every  marriage  for  these 
thirty  years,  and  is  lately  wedded  to  a  young  rake. 

Having  thus  furnished  my  bench,  I  shall  establish  corres- 
pondences with  the  horse-guards,  and  the  veterans  of  Chelsea 
College  ;  the  former  to  furnish  me  with  twelve  men  of  honour 
as  often  as  I  shall  have  occasion  for  a  grand  jury  ;  and  the 
latter,  with  as  many  good  men  and  true,  for  a  petty  jury. 

As  for  the  women  of  virtue,  it  will  not  be  difficult  for  me  to 
find  them  about  midnight  at  crimp  and  basset. 

Having  given  this  public  notice  of  my  court,  I  must  farther 
add,  that  I  intend  to  open  it  on  this  day  sevennight,  being 
Monday  the  twentieth  instant ;  and  do  hereby  invite  all  such 
as  have  suff*ered  injuries  and  affronts,  that  are  not  to  be  re- 

*  This  alludes  to  the  Masters  in  Chancery,  who  sat  on  the  Bench  with  the 
Lord  Chancellor. 

F  F 


424  THE    TATLEH.  [No.  250. 

dressed  by  the  common  laws  of  this  land,  whether  they  be 
short  bows,  cold  salutations,  supercilious  looks,  unreturned 
smiles,  distant  behaviour,  or  forced  familiarity  ;  as  also  all 
such  as  have  been  aggrieved  by  any  ambiguous  expression, 
accidental  justle,  or  unkind  repartee  ;  likewise  all  such  as  have 
been  defrauded  of  their  right  to  the  wall,  tricked  out  of  the 
upper  end  of  the  table,  or  have  been  suffered  to  place  them- 
selves, in  their  own  wrong,  on  the  back-seat  of  the  coach. 
These,  and  all  of  these,  I  do,  as  I  above  said,  invite  to  bring 
in  their  several  cases  and  complaints,  in  which  they  shall  be 
relieved  with  all  imaginable  expedition. 

I  am  very  sensible,  that  the  office  I  have  now  taken  upon 
me  will  engage  me  in  the  disquisition  of  many  weighty  points, 
that  daily  perplex  the  youth  of  the  British  nation ;  and,  there- 
fore, I  have  already  discussed  several  of  them  for  my  future 
use :  as,  "  how  far  a  man  may  brandish  his  cane  in  telling  a 
story,  without  insulting  his  hearer  ; "  "  what  degree  of  con- 
tradiction amounts  to  the  lie ;  "  "  how  a  man  shall  resent 
another's  staring  and  cocking  a  hat  in  his  face  ; "  "  if  asking 
pardon  is  an  atonement  for  treading  upon  one's  toes  ; " 
"  whether  a  man  may  put  up  with  a  box  on  the  ear,  received 
fi'om  a  stranger  in  the  dark  ; "  or,  "  whether  a  man  of  honour 
may  take  a  blow  of  his  wife  ;  "  with  several  other  subtilties  of 
the  like  nature. 

For  my  direction  in  the  duties  of  my  office,  I  have  furnished 
myself  with  a  certain  astrological  pair  of  scales,  which  I  have 
contrived  for  this  purpose.  In  one  of  them  I  lay  the  injuries, 
in  the  other  the  reparations.  The  first  are  represented  by 
little  weights  made  of  a  metal  resembling  iron,  and  the  other 
of  gold.  These  are  not  only  lighter  than  the  weights  made 
use  of  in  avoirdupois,  but  also  such  as  are  used  in  Troy  weight. 
The  heaviest  of  those  that  represent  the  injuries  amount  but  to 
a  scruple  ;  and  decrease  by  so  many  sub-divisions,  that  there 
are  several  imperceptible  weights  which  cannot  be  seen  without 
the  help  of  a  very  fine  microscope.  I  might  acquaint  my 
reader,  that  these  scales  were  made  under  the  influence  of  the 
sun  when  he  was  in  Libra,  and  describe  many  signatures  on  the 


No.  252.]  THE    GRAPE    IX    MODERATION.  425 

weights  both  of  injury  and  reparation  :  but  as  this  would  look 
rather  to  proceed  from  an  ostentation  of  my  own  art,  than  any 
care  for  the  public,  I  shall  pass  it  over  in  silence. 


THE  GEAPE  IN  MODERATION. 

No.  252.     SATURDAY,  Xovembee  18,  1710.    [Steele.] 

Narratur  et  prisci  Catonis 

Ssex^e  mero  caluisse  virtus.         Hor.  3  Od.  xxi,  11. 

Of  old 

Cato's  virtue,  we  are  told, 
Often  -with  a  bumper  glow'd, 
And  with  social  raptures  flow'd. 

The  following  letter,  and  several  others  to  the  same  purpose, 
accuse  me  of  a  rigour  of  which  I  am  far  from  being  guilty,  to 
wit,  the  disallowing  the  cheerful  use  of  wine. 

"  From  my  Country-house,  October  25. 
"Mr.  Bickerstaff, 

''Your  discourse  against  drinking,  in  Tuesday's 
Tatler,  I  like  well  enough  in  the  main  ;  but,  in  my  humble 
opinion,  you  are  become  too  rigid,  where  you  say  to  this  effect : 
Were  there  only  this  single  consideration,  that  we  are  the  less 
masters  of  ourselves  if  we  drink  the  least  proportion  beyond  the 
exigence  of  thirst.  I  hope  no  one  drinks  wine  to  allay  this 
appetite.  This  seems  to  be  designed  for  a  loftier  indulgence 
of  nature  ;  for  it  were  hard  to  suppose  that  the  Author  of 
Nature,  who  imposed  upon  her  her  necessities  and  pains,  does 
not  allow  her  her  proper  pleasures  ;  and  we  may  reckon  among 
the  latter  the  moderate  use  of  the  grape.  Though  I  am  as 
much  against  excess,  or  whatever  approaches  it,  as  yourself  ; 
yet  I  conceive  one  may  safely  go  farther  than  the  bounds  you 
there  prescribe,  not  only  without  forfeiting  the  title  of  being 
one's  own  master,  but  also  to  possess  it  in  a  much  greater 

F   F   2 


426  THE    TATLER.  [No.  252. 

degree.  If  a  man'B  expressing  himself  upon  any  subject  with 
more  hfe  and  vivacity,  more  variety  of  ideas,  more  copiously, 
more  fluently,  and  more  to  the  purpose,  argues  it ;  he  thinks 
clearer,  speaks  more  ready,  and  with  greater  choice  of  compre- 
hensive and  significant  terms.  I  have  the  good  fortune  now 
to  be  intimate  with  a  gentleman*  remarkable  for  this  temper, 
who  has  an  inexhaustible  source  of  wit  to  entertain  the  curious, 
the  grave,  the  humorous,  and  the  frolic.  He  can  transform 
himself  into  different  shapes,  and  adapt  himself  to  every 
company  ;  yet  in  a  coffee-house,  or  in  the  ordinary  course  of 
affairs,  he  appears  rather  dull  than  sprightly.  You  can  seldom 
get  him  to  the  tavern  ;  but  when  once  he  is  arrived  to  his 
pint,  and  begins  to  look  about  and  like  his  company,  you 
admire  a  thousand  things  in  him,  which  before  lay  buried. 
Then  you  discover  the  brightness  of  his  mind,  and  the  strength 
of  his  judgment,  accompanied  with  the  most  graceful  mirth. 
In  a  word,  by  this  enlivening  aid,  he  is  whatever  is  polite, 
instructive,  and  diverting.  AVhat  makes  him  still  more  agree- 
able is,  that  he  tells  a  story,  serious  or  comical,  with  as  much 
delicacy  of  humour  as  Cervantes  himself.  And  for  all  this,  at 
other  times,  even  after  a  long  knowledge  of  him,  you  shall 
scarce  discern  in  this  incomparable  person  a  whit  more,  than 
what  might  be  expected  from  one  of  a  common  capacity. 
Doubtless,  there  are  men  of  great  parts  that  are  guilty  of  down- 
right bashfulness,  that,  by  a  strange  hesitation  and  reluctance 
to  speak,  murder  the  finest  and  most  elegant  thoughts,  and 
render  the  most  lively  conceptions  flat  and  heavy. 

"  In  this  case,  a  certain  quantity  of  my  white  or  red  cordial, 
which  you  will,  is  an  easy,  but  an  infallible  remedy.  It 
awakens  the  judgment,  quickens  the  memory,  ripens  the 
understanding,  disperses  melancholy,  cheers  the  heart  ;  in  a 
word,  restores  the  whole  man  to  himself  and  his  friends,  with- 
out the  least  pain  or  indisposition  to  the  patient.  To  be  taken 
only  in  the  evening,  in  a  reasonable  quantity,  before  going  to 
bed.     Note  ;  My  bottles  are  sealed  with  three  flower-de-luces 

*  Addison.  Until  wine  had  made  pleasant  summer  in  his  veins,  Addison 
was  too  shy  in  giving  full  rein  to  his  brilliant  powers  of  conversation. 


No.  252.]  THE    GRAPE    IN    MODERATION.  427 

and  a  bunch  of  grapes.     Beware  of  counterfeits.     I  am  your 
most  humble  servant,  &c." 

Whatever  has  been  said  against  the  use  of  wine,  upon  the 
supposition  that  it  enfeebles  the  mind,  and  renders  it  unfit  for 
the  duties  of  life,  bears  forcibly  to  the  advantage  of  that  deli- 
cious juice  in  cases  where  it  only  heightens  conversation,  and 
brings  to  light  agreeable  talents,  which  otherwise  would  have 
lain  concealed  under  the  oppression  of  an  unjust  modesty.  I 
must  acknowledge  I  have  seen  many  of  the  temper  mentioned  by 
this  correspondent,  and  own  wine  may  very  allowably  be  used, 
in  a  degree  above  the  supply  of  mere  necessity,  by  such  as 
labour  under  melancholy,  or  are  tongue-tied  by  modesty.  It  is 
certainly  a  very  agreeable  change,  when  we  see  a  glass  raise  a  life- 
less conversation  into  all  the  pleasures  of  wit  and  good-humour. 
But  wlien  Caska  adds  to  his  natural  impudence  the  fluster  of  a 
bottle,  that  which  fools  called  fire  when  he  was  sober,  all  men 
abhor  as  outrage  when  he  is  drunk.  Thus  he,  that  in  the 
morning  was  only  saucy,  is  in  the  evening  tumultuous.  It 
makes  one  sick  to  hear  one  of  these  fellows  say,  ''they  love  a 
friend  and  a  bottle."  Noisy  mirth  has  something  too  rustic  in 
it  to  be  considered  without  terror  by  men  of  politeness  :  but 
while  the  discourse  improves  in  a  well-chosen  company,  from 
the  addition  of  spirits  which  flow  from  moderate  cups,  it  must 
be  acknowledged,  that  leisure  time  cannot  be  more  agreeably, 
or  perhaps  more  usefully,  employed,  than  at  such  meetings. 
There  is  a  certain  prudence  in  this,  and  all  other  circumstances, 
which  makes  right  or  wrong  in  the  conduct  of  ordinary  life. 


428  THE    TATLEE.  [No.  253. 


CHAEGE  OF  THE  CENSOE. 

No.  253.     TUESDAY,  November  21,  1710. 
[Addisox  axd  Steele.] 

Pietate  gravem  ac  meritis  si  forte  virum  quern 


Conspexere,  silent,  arrectisque  auribus  astant. 

ViRG.  ^n.  i.  115. 

If  then  some  grave  and  j)ious  man  appear, 
They  hush  their  noise,  and  lend  a  listening  ear. 

Extract  of  the  Journal  of  the  Court  of  Honour,  1710. 
Die  Lunte.  vicesimo  Novembris,  hora  nona  antemeridiana. 

The  court  beinsf  sat,  an  oath  prepared  by  the  Censor  was 
administered  to  the  assistants  on  his  right-hand,  who  were  all 
sworn  upon  their  honour.  The  women  on  his  left-hand  took 
the  same  oath  upon  their  reputation.  Twelve  gentlemen  of 
the  horse-guards  were  impanelled,  having  unanimously  chosen 
Mr.  Alexander  Truncheon,  who  is  their  right-hand  man  in  the 
troop,  for  their  foreman  in  the  jury.  Mr.  Truncheon  imme- 
diately drew  his  sword,  and,  holding  it  with  the  point  towards 
his  own  body,  presented  it  to  tlie  Censor.  Mr.  Bickerstaff  re- 
ceived it ;  and,  after  having  surveyed  the  breadth  of  the  blade, 
and  sharpness  of  the  point,  with  more  than  ordinary  attention, 
returned  it  to  the  foreman  in  a  very  graceful  manner.  The  rest 
of  the  jury,  upon  the  delivery  of  the  sword  to  their  foreman, 
drew  all  of  them  together  as  one  man,  and  saluted  the  bench 
with  such  an  air,  as  signified  the  most  resigned  submission  to 
those  who  commanded  them,  and  the  greatest  magnanimity  to 
execute  what  they  should  command. 

Mr.  Bickerstaff,  after  having  received  the  compliments  on 
his  right-hand,  cast  his  eye  upon  the  left,  where  the  whole 
female  jury  paid  their  respects  by  a  low  courtesy,  and  by 
laying  their  hands  upon  their  mouths.  Their  forewoman  was 
a  professed  Platonist,  that  had  spent  much  of  her  time  in  ex- 


Xo.  253.1  CHARGE    OF    THE    CEXSOR.  429 

horting  the  sex  to  set  a  just  value  upon  their  persons,  and  to 
make  the  men  know  themselves. 

There  followed  a  profound  silence,  when  at  length,  after 
some  recollection,  the  Censor,  who  continued  hitherto  un- 
covered, put  on  his  hat  with  great  dignity  ;  and,  after  having 
composed  the  brims  of  it  in  a  manner  suitable  to  the 
gravity  of  his  character,  he  gave  the  following  charge  ;  which 
was  received  with  silence  and  attention,  that  being  the 
only  applause  which  he  admits  of,  or  is  ever  given  in  his 
presence. 

"  The  nature  of  my  office,  and  the  solemnity  of  this  occa- 
sion, requiring  that  I  should  open  my  first  session  with  a 
speech,  I  shall  cast  what  I  have  to  say  under  two  principal 
heads. 

"  Under  the  first,  I  shall  endeavour  to  shew  the  necessity 
and  usefulness  of  this  new-erected  court ;  and,  under  the 
second,  I  shall  give  a  word  of  advice  and  instruction  to  every 
constituent  part  of  it. 

"  As  for  the  first,  it  is  well  observed  by  Phsedrus,  an  heathen 
poet  : 

Xisi  utile  est  quod  facimus.  fi'ustra  est  gloria. 

which  is  the  same,  ladies,  as  if  I  should  say,  it  would  be  of 
no  reputation  for  me  to  be  president  of  a  court  which  is  of  no 
benefit  to  the  pul)lick.  Xow  the  advantages  that  may  arise  to 
the  weal  jni^'lic  from  this  institution  will  more  plainly  appear, 
if  we  consider  what  it  suffers  foi-  the  want  of  it.  Are  not 
our  streets  daily  filled  with  wild  pieces  of  justice,  and  random 
penalties  ?  Are  not  crimes  undetermined,  and  reparations 
disproportioned  ?  How  often  have  we  seen  the  lie  punished 
by  death,  and  the  liar  himself  deciding  his  own  cause  !  nay, 
not  only  acting  the  judge,  but  the  executioner  !  Have  we  not 
known  a  box  on  the  ear  more  severely  accounted  for  than 
manslaughter  ?  In  these  extra-judicial  proceedings  of  man- 
kind, an  unmannerly  jest  is  frequently  as  capital  as  a  premedi- 
tated murder. 

"  But  the  most  pernicious  circumstance  in  this  case  is,  that 


430  THE    TATLEK.        .  [No.  253. 

the  man  who  suffers  the  injury  must  put  himself  upon  the 
same  foot  of  danger  with  him  that  gave  it,  before  he  can  have 
his  just  revenge  ;  so  that  the  punisliment  is  altogether 
accidental,  and  may  fall  as  well  upon  the  innocent  as  the 
guilty. 

*'  I  shall  only  mention  a  case  which  happens  frequently 
among  the  more  polite  nations  of  the  world,  and  which  I  the 
rather  mention,  because  both  sexes  are  concerned  in  it,  and 
which  therefore  you  gentlemen,  and  you  ladies  of  the  jury,  will 
the  rather  take  notice  of  ;  I  mean,  that  great  and  known  case 
of  cuckoldom.  Supposing  the  person  who  has  suffered  insults 
in  his  dearer  and  better  half ;  supposing,  I  say,  this  person 
should  resent  the  injuries  done  to  his  tender  wife  ;  what  is  the 
reparation  he  may  expect  ?  Why,  to  be  used  worse  than  his 
poor  lady,  run  through  the  body,  and  left  breathless  upon  the 
bed  of  honour.  What  then,  will  you  on  my  right-hand  say, 
must  the  man  do  that  is  affronted  ?  Must  our  sides  be 
elbowed,  our  shins  broken  ?  Must  the  wall,  or  perhaps  our 
mistress,  be  taken  from  us  ?  May  a  man  knit  his  forehead 
into  a  frown,  toss  up  his  arm,  or  pish  at  what  we  say,  and  must 
the  villain  live  after  it  ?  Is  there  no  redress  for  injured 
honour  ?  Yes,  gentlemen,  that  is  the  design  of  the  judicature 
we  have  here  established. 

"  A  court  of  conscience,  we  very  well  know,  was  first  insti- 
tuted for  the  determining  of  several  points  of  property,  that 
were  too  little  and  trivial  for  the  cognizance  of  higher  courts  of 
justice.  In  the  same  manner,  our  court  of  honour  is  appointed 
for  the  examination  of  several  niceties  and  punctihos,  that  do 
not  pass  for  wrongs  in  the  eye  of  our  common  laws.  But  not- 
withstanding no  legislators  of  any  nation  have  taken  into  con- 
sideration these  little  circumstances,  they  are  such  as  often 
lead  to  crimes  big  enough  for  their  inspection,  though  they 
come  before  them  too  late  for  their  redress. 

"Besides,  I  appeal  to  you,  ladies  {here  Mr.  Bklcer  staff  turned 
to  his  left-hand),  if  these  are  not  the  little  stings  and  thorns  in 
life,  that  make  it  more  uueasy  than  its  most  substantial  evils  ? 
Confess  ingenuously,  did  you  never  lose  a  morning's  devotions 


No   253.]  CHARGE    OF    THE    CENSOR.  431 

because  you  could  not  offer  them  up  from  the  highest  place  of 
the  pew  ?  Have  you  not  been  in  pain,  even  at  a  ball,  because 
another  has  been  taken  out  to  dance  before  you  ?  Do  you 
love  any  of  your  friends  so  much  as  those  that  are  below  you  ? 
Or,  have  you  any  favourites  that  walk  on  your  right-hand  ? 
You  have  answered  me  in  your  looks  ;  I  ask  no  more. 

"  I  come  now  to  the  second  part  of  my  discourse,  which 
obliges  me  to  address  myself  in  particular  to  the  respective 
members  of  the  court,  in  which  I  shall  be  very  brief. 

"  As  for  you  gentlemen  and  ladies,  my  assistants  and  grand 
juries,  I  have  made  choice  of  you  on  my  right-hand,  because  I 
know  you  very  jealous  of  your  honour  ;  and  you  on  my  left, 
because  I  know  you  very  much  concerned  for  the  reputation  of 
others  ;  for  which  reason  I  expect  great  exactness  and  impar- 
tiality in  your  verdicts  and  judgments. 

"  I  must,  in  the  next  place,  address  myself  to  you,  gentle- 
men of  the  council  :  you  all  know  that  I  have  not  chosen  you 
for  your  knowledge  in  the  litigious  parts  of  the  law ;  but 
because  you  have  all  of  you  formerly  fought  duels,  of  which  I 
have  reason  to  think  you  have  repented,  as  being  now  settled 
in  the  peaceable  state  of  benchers.  My  advice  to  you  is,  only 
that  in  your  pleadings  you  will  be  short  and  expressive.  To 
which  end,  you  are  to  banish  out  of  your  discourses  all 
synonymous  terms,  and  unnecessary  multiplication  of  verbs 
and  nouns.  I  do  moreover  forbid  you  the  use  of  the  words 
also  and  likewise ;  and  must  farther  declare,  that  if  I  catch 
any  one  among  you,  upon  any  pretence  whatsoever,  using  the 
particle  or,  I  shall  instantly  order  him  to  be  stripped  of  his 
gown,  and  thrown  over  the  bar." 


432  THE    TATLER.  [No.  254. 

FROZEN  WOEDS. 

No.  254.     THURSDAY,  November  23,  1710.     [Addison.] 

Splendide  mendax .  HoR.  2  Od.  iii.  35. 

Gloriously  false . 

There  are  no  books  which  I  more  delight  in  than  in  travels, 
especially  those  that  describe  remote  countries,  and  give  the 
writer  an  opportunity  of  shewing  his  parts  without  incurring 
any  danger  of  being  examined  or  contradicted.  Among  all  the 
authors  of  this  kind,  our  renowned  countryman,  Sir  John 
Mandevile  has  distinguished  himself,  by  the  copiousness  of  his 
invention,  and  the  greatness  of  his  genius.  The  second  to  Sir 
John  I  take  to  have  been,  Ferdinand  Mendez  Pinto,  a  person 
of  infinite  adventure,  and  unbounded  imagination.  One  reads 
the  voyages  of  these  two  great  wits,  with  as  much  astonishment 
as  the  travels  of  Ulysses  in  Homer,  or  of  the  Red-Cross 
Knight  in  Spenser.     All  is  enchanted  ground,  and  fairy-land. 

I  have  got  into  my  hands,  by  great  chance,  several  manu- 
scripts of  these  two  eminent  authors,  which  are  filled  with 
greater  wonders  than  any  of  those  they  have  communicated  to 
the  public  ;  and  indeed,  were  they  not  so  well  attested,  they 
would  appear  altogether  improbable.  I  am  apt  to  think  the 
ingenious  authors  did  not  publish  them  with  the  rest  of  their 
works,  lest  they  should  pass  for  fictions  and  fables  :  a  caution 
not  unnecessary,  when  the  reputation  of  their  veracity  was  not 
yet  established  in  the  world.  But  as  this  reason  has  now  no 
farther  weight,  I  shall  make  the  publick  a  present  of  these 
curious  pieces,  at  such  times  as  I  shall  find  myself  unprovided 
with  other  subjects. 

The  present  paper  I  intend  to  fill  with  an  extract  from  Sir 
John's  Journal,  in  which  that  learned  and  worthy  knight  gives 
an  account  of  the  freezing  and  thawing  of  several  short  speeches, 
which  he  made  in  the  territories  of  Nova  ZemNa.  I  need  not 
inform  my  reader,  that  the  author  of  Hudibras  alludes  to  this 
strange   quality   in    that    cold    climate,   when,    speaking    of 


No.  254.]  FEOZEX    WORDS.  433 

abstracted  notions  cloathed  in  a  visible  shape,  he  adds  that  apt 
simile, 

"  Like  words  congeal'd  in  northern  air." 

Not  to  keep  my  reader  any  longer  in  suspense,  the  relation 
put  into  modem  language,  is  as  follows  : 

"  We  were  separated  by  a  storm  in  the  latitude  of  seventy- 
three,  insomuch,  that  only  the  ship  which  I  was  in,  with  a 
Dutch  and  French  vessel,  got  safe  into  a  creek  of  Nova  Zemlta. 
We  landed,  in  order  to  refit  our  vessels,  and  store  ourselves 
with  provisions.  The  crew  of  each  vessel  made  themselves  a 
cabin  of  turf  and  wood,  at  some  distance  from  each  other,  to 
fence  themselves  against  the  inclemencies  of  the  weather,  which 
was  severe  beyond  imagination.  We  soon  observed,  that  in 
talking  to  one  another  we  lost  several  of  our  words,  and  could 
not  hear  one  another  at  above  two  yards  distance,  and  that  too 
when  we  sat  very  near  the  fire.  After  much  perplexity,  I 
found  that  our  words  froze  in  tlie  air,  before  they  could  reach 
the  ears  of  the  persons  to  whom  they  were  spoken.  I  was 
soon  confirmed  in  this  conjecture,  when,  upon  tlie  increase  of 
the  cold,  the  whole  company  grew  dumb,  or  rather  deaf ;  for 
every  man  was  sensible,  as  we  afterwards  found,  that  he  spoke 
as  well  as  ever  ;  but  the  sounds  no  sooner  took  air  than  they 
"were  condensed  and  lost.  It  was  now  a  miserable  spectacle  to 
see  us  nodding  and  gaping  at  one  another,  every  man  talking, 
and  no  man  heard.  One  might  observe  a  seaman  that  could 
hail  a  ship  at  a  league's  distance,  beckoning  with  his  hand, 
straining  his  lungs,  and  tearing  his  throat ;  but  all  in  vain  : 

" Nee  vox  nee  verba  sequuntur. 


"  Nor  voice,  nor  words  ensued. 

"  We  continued  here  three  weeks  in  this  dismal  plight.  Ai 
length,  upon  a  turn  of  wind,  the  air  about  us  began  to  thaw. 
Our  cabin  was  immediately  filled  with  a  dry  clattering  sound, 
which  I  afterwards  found  to  be  the  crackling  of  consonants 
that  broke  above  our  heads,  and  were  often  mixed  with  a 
gentle  hissing,  which  I  imputed  to  the  letter  .9,  that  occurs  so 


434  THE    TATLER.  [No.  254. 

frequently  in  the  English  tongue.  I  soon  after  felt  a  breeze  of 
whispers  rushing  by  my  ear  ;  for  those,  being  of  a  soft  and 
gentle  substance,  immediately  liquefied  in  the  warm  wind  that 
blew  across  our  cabin.  These  were  soon  followed  by  syllables 
and  short  words,  and  at  length  by  entire  sentences,  that  melted 
sooner  or  later,  as  they  were  more  or  less  congealed  ;  so  that 
we  now  heard  every  thing  that  had  been  spolcen  during  the 
whole  three  weeks  that  we  had  been  silent,  if  I  may  use  that 
expression.  It  was  now  very  early  in  the  morning,  and  yet,  to 
my  surprise,  I  heard  somebody  say,  '  Sir  John,  it  is  midnight, 
and  time  for  the  ship's  crew  to  go  to-bed.'  This  I  knew  to  be 
the  pilot's  voice  ;  and,  upon  recollecting  myself,  I  concluded 
that  he  had  spoken  these  words  to  me  some  days  before, 
though  I  could  not  hear  them  until  the  present  thaw.  My 
reader  will  easily  imagine  how  the  whole  crew  was  amazed  to 
hear  every  man  talking,  and  see  no  man  opening  his  mouth. 
In  the  midst  of  this  great  surprise  we  were  all  in,  we  heard  a 
volley  of  oaths  and  curses,  lasting  for  a  long  while,  and  uttered 
in  a  very  hoarse  voice,  which  I  knew  belonged  to  the  boat- 
swain, who  was  a  very  choleric  fellow,  and  had  taken  his 
opportunity  of  cursing  and  swearing  at  me,  when  he  thought 
I  could  not  hear  him ;  for  I  had  several  times  given 
him  the  strappado  on  that  account,  as  I  did  not  fail  to 
repeat  it  for  these  his  pious  soliloquies,  when  I  got  him  on 
ship-board. 

"  I  must  not  omit  the  names  of  several  beauties  in  AYapping, 
which  were  heard  every  now  and  then,  in  the  midst  of  a  long 
sigh  that  accompanied  them  ;  as,  '  Dear  Kate  ! '  '  Pretty 
Mrs.  Peggy  ! '  '  When  shall  I  see  my  Sue  again  !  '  This 
betrayed  several  amours  which  had  been  concealed  until  that 
time,  and  furnished  us  with  a  great  deal  of  mirth  in  our  return 
to  England. 

"  When  this  confusion  of  voices  was  pretty  well  over,  though 
I  was  afraid  to  offer  at  speaking,  as  fearing  I  should  not  be 
heard,  I  proposed  a  visit  to  the  Dutch  cabin,  which  lay  about 
a  mile  farther  up  in  the  country.  My  crew  were  extremely 
rejoiced  to  find  they  had  again  recovered  their  hearing ;  though 


Xo.  2.14.]  FROZEN    TVORDS.  435 

every  man  uttered  his  voice  with  the  same  apprehensions  that  I 
had  done, 

" Et  timid6  verba  intermissa  retentat. 


"  And  try'J  his  tongue,  his  silence  softly  broke. 

"At  abont  half-a-mile's  distance  from  our  cabin  we  heard 
the  groanings  of  a  bear,  which  at  first  startled  us  ;  but,  upon 
enquiry,  we  were  informed  by  some  of  our  company,  that  he 
was  dead,  and  now  lay  in  salt,  having  been  killed  upon  that 
very  spot  about  a  fortnight  before,  in  the  time  of  the  frost. 
Not  far  from  the  same  place,  we  were  likewise  entertained  with 
some  posthumous  snarls,  and  barkings  of  a  fox. 

"  We  at  length  arrived  at  the  little  Dutch  settlement  ;  and, 
upon  entering  the  room,  found  it  filled  with  sighs  that  smelt  of 
brandy,  and  several  other  unsavoury  sounds,  that  were 
altogether  inarticulate.  My  valet,  who  was  an  Irishman,  fell 
into  BO  great  a  rage  at  what  he  heard,  that  he  drew  his  sword  ; 
but  not  knowing  where  to  lay  the  blame,  he  put  it  up  again. 
We  were  stunned  with  these  confused  noises,  but  did  not  hear 
a  single  word  until  about  half-an-hour  after  ;  which  I  ascribed 
to  the  harsh  and  obdurate  sounds  of  that  lansfuafre,  which 
wanted  more  time  than  ours  to  melt,  and  become  audible. 

"After  having  here  met  with  a  very  hearty  welcome,  we 
went  to  the  cabin  of  the  French,  who,  to  make  amends  for 
their  three  weeks  silence,  were  talking  and  disputing  with 
greater  rapidity  and  confusion  than  I  ever  heard  in  an 
assembly,  even  of  that  nation.  Their  language,  as  I  found, 
upon  the  first  giving  of  the  weather,  fell  asunder  and  dissolved. 
I  was  here  convinced  of  an  error,  into  which  I  had  before 
fallen  ;  for  I  fancied,  that  for  the  freezing  of  the  sound,  it  was 
necessary  for  it  to  be  wrapped  up,  and,  as  it  were,  preserved  in 
breath  :  but  I  found  my  mistake  when  I  heard  the  sound  of  a 
kit  playing  a  minuet  over  our  heads.  I  asked  the  occasion  of 
it ;  upon  which  one  of  the  company  told  me  that  it  would  play 
there  above  a  week  longer  ;  '  for,'  says  he,  '  finding  ourselves 
bereft  of  speech,  we  prevailed  upon  one  of  the  company,  who 
had  his  musical   instrument  about  him,   to  play  to  us  from 


436  THE    TATLER.  [No.  255. 

morning  to  night ;  all  which  time  was  employed  in  dancing  in 
order  to  dissipate  our  chagrin,  ct  tuer  U  temps'' 

Here  Sir  John  gives  very  good  philosophical  reason,  why  the 
kit  could  not  be  heard  during  the  frost  ;  but,  as  they  are 
something  prolix,  I  pass  them  over  in  silence,  and  shall  only 
observe,  that  the  honourable  author  seems,  by  his  quotations, 
to  have  been  well  versed  in  the  antient  poets,  which  perhaps 
raised  his  fancy  above  the  ordinary  pitch  of  historians,  and 
very  much  contributed  to  the  embellishment  of  his  writings. 


THE  CHAPLAIN. 

No.  255.    SATUEDxiY,  November  25,  1710.      [Addison.] 

Nee  te  tua  plurima,  Pantheu, 


Labentem  pietas,  nee  Apollinis  insula  texit. 

ViRG.  ^n.  ii.  429. 

Comes  course  the  last,  the  red'ning  doctor  now 
Slides  off  reluctant,  with  his  meaning  bow  ; 
Drers,  letters,  wit,  and  merit,  plead  in  vain, 
For  bear  he  must,  indignity  and  pain. 

*'  To  the  Censor  of  Great  Britain. 

"  Sir, 

'*  I  AM  at  present  under  very  great  difficulties,  which 
it  is  not  in  the  power  of  any  one,  besides  yourself,  to  redress. 
Whether  or  no  you  shall  think  it  a  proper  case  to  come  before 
your  court  of  honour,  I  cannot  tell ;  but  thus  it  is.  I  am 
chaplain  to  an  honourable  family,  very  regular  at  the  hours  of 
devotion,  and,  I  hope,  of  an  unblameable  life  ;  but  for  not 
offering  to  rise  at  the  second  course,  I  found  my  patron  and 
his  lady  very  sullen  and  out  of  humour,  though  at  first  I  did 
not  know  the  reason  of  it.  At  length,  when  I  happened  to 
help  myself  to  a  jelly,  the  lady  of  the  house,  otherwise  a  devout 
woman,  told  me,  that  it  did  not  become  a  man  of  my  cloth  to 
delight  in  such  frivolous  food  :  but  as  I  still  continued  to  sit 


Xo.  2oo.]  THE    CHAPLAIX.  137 

out  the  last  course,  I  was  yesterday  informed  by  the  butler 
that  his  lordship  had  no  farther  occasion  for  my  service.  All 
which  is  humbly  submitted  to  your  consideration  by,  sir,  your 
most  humble  servant,  &c." 

The  case  of  this  gentleman  deserves  pity  ;  especially  if  he 
loves  sweetmeats,  to  which,  if  I  may  guess  by  his  letter,  he  is 
no  enemy.     In  the  meantime,  I  have  often  wondered  at  the 
indecency  of  discharging  the  holiest  man  from  the  table  as 
soon   as  the   most  delicious  parts  of  the  entertainment  are 
served  up,  and  could  never  conceive  a  reason  for  so  absurd  a 
custom.     Is  it  because  a  liquorish  palate,  or  a  sweet  tooth,  as 
they  call  it,  is  not  consistent  with  the  sanctity  of  his  character  ? 
This  is  but  a  trifling  pretence.     No  man,  of  the  most  rigid 
vii'tue,  gives  offence  by  any  excesses  in  plum-pudding  or  plum- 
porridge,  and  that  because  they  are  the  first  imrts  of  the  dinner. 
Is  there  anything  that  tends  to  incitation  in  sweetmeats  more 
than  in  ordinary  dishes  ?     Certainly  not.     Sugar-plums  are  a 
very  innocent  diet,  and  conserves  of  a  much  colder  nature  than 
your  common  pickles.     I  have  sometimes  thought  that  the 
ceremony  of  the  chaplain's  flying  away  from  the  desert  was 
typical  and  figurative,  to  mark  out  to  the  company  how  they 
ought  to  retire  from  aU  the  luscious  baits  of  temptation,  and 
deny  their  appetites  the  gratifications  that  are  most  pleasing  to 
them  ;  or,  at  least,  to  signify  that  we  ought  to  stint  ourselves 
in  our  most  lawful  satisfactions,  and  not  make  our  pleasure, 
but  our  support,  the  end  of  eating.     But  most  certainly,  if 
such  a  lesson  of  temperance  had  been  necessary  at  a  table,  our 
clergy  would  have  recommended  it  to  all  the  lay  masters  of 
families,  and  not  have  disturbed  other  men's  tables  with  such 
unseasonable  examples  of  abstinence.     The  original,  therefore, 
of  this  barbarous  custom,  I  take  to  have  been  merely  accidental. 
The  chaplain  retired,  out  of  pure  complaisance,  to  make  room 
for  the  removal  of  the  dishes,  or  possibly  for  the  ranging  of  the 
desert.     This  by  degrees  grew  into  a  duty,  until  at  length,  as 
the  fashion  improved,  the  good  man  found  himself  cut  oft  from 
the  third  part  of  the  entertainment  ;  and,  if  the  arrogance  of 
the   patron   goes   on,  it   is  not  impossible  but,  in  the   next 


438  THE    TATLER.  [No.  255. 

generation,  he  may  see  himself  reduced  to  the  tythe,  or  tenth 
dish  of  the  table  ;  a  sufficient  caution  not  to  part  with  any 
privilege  we  are  once  possessed  of.  It  was  usual  for  the  priest 
in  old  times  to  feast  upon  the  sacrifice,  nay  the  honey-cake, 
while  the  hungry  laity  looked  upon  him  with  great  devotion  ; 
or,  as  the  late  lord  Rochester  describes  it  in  a  very  lively 
manner. 

And  while  the  priest  did  eat,  the  people  star'd. 

At  present  the  custom  is  inverted ;  the  laity  feast,  while  the 
priest  stands  by  as  an  humble  spectator.  This  necessarily 
puts  a  good  man  upon  making  great  ravages  on  all  the  dishes 
that  stand  near  him  ;  and  distinguishing  himself  by  voracious- 
ness of  appetite,  as  knowing  that  his  time  is  short.  I  would 
fain  ask  these  stiff-necked  patrons,  whether  they  would  not 
take  it  ill  of  a  chaplain,  that  in  his  grace  after  meat  should 
return  thanks  for  the  whole  entertainment  with  an  exception 
to  the  desert  ?  And  yet  I  cannot  but  think  that,  in  such  a 
proceeding,  he  would  but  deal  with  them  as  they  deserved. 
What  would  a  Roman  Catholic  priest  think,  who  is  always 
helped  first,  and  placed  next  the  ladies,  should  he  see  a  clergy- 
man giving  his  company  the  slip  at  the  first  appearance  of  the 
tarts  or  sweetmeats  ?  Would  not  he  believe  that  he  had  the 
same  antipathy  to  a  candied  orange,  or  a  piece  of  pufP-paste,  as 
some  have  to  a  Cheshire  cheese,  or  a  breast  of  mutton  ?  Yet, 
to  so  ridiculous  a  height  is  this  foolish  custom  grown,  that 
even  the  Christmas  pie,  which  in  its  very  nature  is  a  kind  of 
consecrated  cake,  and  a  badge  of  distinction,  is  often  forbidden 
to  the  Druid  of  the  family.  Strange  !  that  a  surloin  of  beef, 
whether  boiled  or  roasted,  when  entire,  is  exposed  to  his  utmost 
depredations  and  incisions  ;  but  if  minced  into  small  pieces, 
and  tossed  up  with  plums  and  sugar,  changes  its  property,  and, 
forsooth,  is  meat  for  his  master. 

In  this  case  I  know  not  which  to  censure,  the  pati'on,  or  the 
chaplain,  the  insolence  of  power,  or  the  abjectness  of  depend- 
ence. For  my  own  part,  I  have  often  blushed  to  see  a 
gentleman,  whom  I  knew  to  have  much  more  wit  and  learning 


^•o.  2o.3.]  lilE    ClIArLAiN\  %33 

than  myself,  and  'who  was  bred  up  Avith  me  at  tlie  university 
upon  the  same  foot  of  a  liberal  education,  treated  in  such  an 
ignominious  manner,  and  suuk  beneath  those  of  his  own  rank, 
by  reason  of  that  character  which  ought  to  bring  him  honour. 
This  deters  men  of  generous  minds  from  placing  themselves  in 
such  a  station  of  life,  and  by  that  means  frequently  excludes 
persons  of  quality  from  the  improving  and  agreeable  con- 
versation of  a  learned  and  obsequious  friend. 

Mr.  Oldham*  lets  us  know,  that  he  was  affrighted  from  the 
thought  of  such  an  employment,  by  the  scandalous  sort  of 
treatment  which  often  accompanies  it : 

Home  think  themselves  exalted  to  the  sk}', 
If  they  light  in  some  noble  family  : 
Diet,  an  horse,  and  thirt}'  j.ounds  a-ycar. 
Besides  tli'  advantnge  of  his  lordship's  car, 
The  credit  of  the  business,  and  the  state, 
Are  things  that  in  a  youngster's  sense  sound  great. 
Little  the  unexperienc'd  wretch  does  know 
AVhat  slavery  he  oft  must  undergo, 
AVho.  though  in  silken  scarf  and  cassock  drest, 
"Wears  but  a  gayer  livery  at  best. 
When  dinner  calls,  the  implement  must  wait 
Witii  holy  words  to  consecrate  the  meat, 
But  hold  it  for  a  favour  seldom  known, 
If  he  l)e  deign'd  the  honour  to  sit  down. 
Soon  as  the  tarts  appear  ;  "  Sir  Crape,  withdraw, 
Those  dainties  are  wot  for  a  spiritual  maw. 
Observe  your  distance,  and  be  sure  to  stand 
Hard  by  the  cistern  vdth  your  cap  in  hand  : 
There  for  diversion  you  may  pick  your  teeth, 
Till  the  kind  voider  comes  for  your  relief." 
Let  others,  who  such  meannesses  can  brook. 
Strike  cotmtenaiicc  to  every  great  man's  look  ; 
1  rate  my  freedom  higher. 

This  author's  raillery  is  the  raillery  of  a  friend,  and  does 
not  turn  the  sacred  order  into  ridicule  ;  but  is  a  just  censure 
on  such  persons  as  take  advantage,  from  the  necessities  of  a 
man  of  merit,  to  impose  on  him  hardships  that  are  by  no 
means  suitable  to  the  dignity  of  his  profession. 

*  In  "  A  Satire,  acklrcssed  to  a  Friend  that  is  about  to  kave  the  Univer- 
sity," &c.     Oiaham"s  Works,  1703,  8vo,  p.  -SUL 


li  (• 


440  THE    TATLEPv.  [Xo.  25G. 

PEOCEEDINGS  OF  THE  COUET  OF 
HONOUE. 

No.  206.    TUESDAY,  November  28,  1710.     [ADDisois^]* 

Nostritm  est  tantas  compoiiere  lites. 

Viiia.  Eel.  iii.  108. 

'Tis  ours  sucli  warm  contentious  to  decide. 

Peter  Plumb  of  London,  merchant,  was  indicted  hj  the 
honourable  Mr.  Thomas  Gnles,  of  Gule  Hall  in  the  county  of 
Salop,  for  that  the  said  Peter  Plumb  did,  in  Lombard  Street, 
London,  between  the  hours  of  two  and  three  in  the  afternoon, 
meet  the  said  Mr.  Thomas  Gules,  and,  after  a  short  salutation, 
put  on  his  hat,  value  five-pence,  while  the  honourable  Mr. 
Gules  stood  bare-headed  for  the  space  of  two  seconds.  .  It  was 
further  urged  against  the  criminal,  that,  during  his  discourse 
with  the  prosecutor,  he  feloniously  stole  the  wall  of  him,  having 
clapped  his  back  against  it  in  such  a  manner,  that  it  was 
impossible  for  Mr.  Gules  to  recover  it  again  at  his  taking  leave 
of  him.  The  prosecutor  alleged,  that  he  Avas  the  cadet  of  a 
very  ancient  family  ;  and  that,  according  to  the  principles  of 
all  the  younger  brothers  of  the  said  family,  he  had  never 
sullied  himself  with  business,  but  had  chosen  rather  to  starve, 
like  a  man  of  honour,  than  do  anything  beneath  his  quality. 
He  produced  several  witnesses,  that  he  had  never  employed 
himself  beyond  the  twisting  of  a  w^hip,  or  the  making  of  a  pair 
of  nut-crackers,  in  which  he  only  worked  for  his  diversion,  in 
order  to  make  a  present  now  and  then  to  his  friends.  The 
prisoner  being  asked,  "  what  he  could  say  for  himself,"  cast 
several  reflections  upon  the  honourable  Mr.  Gules  ;  as,  "  that 
he  was  not  worth  a  groat  ;  that  nobody  in  the  city  would  trust 
him  for  a  halfpenny  ;  that  he  owed  him  money,  which  he  had 
promised  to  pay  him  several  times,  but  never  kept  his  word  ; 
and,  in  short,  that  he  was  an  idle  beggarly  fellow,  and  of  no 

'*  In  these  Papers  on  the  "Court  of  Honour,"  Addison  was  assisted  by 
Steele. 


No.  2,5G.]    rrvOCEEDINGS   OF   Till-:   COlTvT   OF  HONOUR.     -Ill 

use  to  the  public."  This  sort  of  language  was  very  severely 
reprimanded  by  the  Censor,  who  told  the  criminal,  "  that  he 
spoke  in  contempt  of  the  Court,  and  that  he  should  be 
proceeded  against  for  contumacy,  if  he  did  not  change  his 
style."  The  prisoner,  therefore,  desired  to  be  heard  by  his 
counsel,  who  urged  for  his  defence,  "  that  he  put  on  his 
hat  through  ignorance,  and  took  the  wall  by  accident."  They 
likewise  produced  several  witnesses,  that  he  made  several 
motions  with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  which  are  generally  under- 
stood as  an  invitation  to  the  person  we  talk  with  to  be  covered  ; 
and  that,  the  gentleman  not  taking  the  hint,  he  was  forced  to 
put  on  his  hat,  as  being  troubled  with  a  cold.  There  was 
likewise  an  Irishman,  who  deposed,  "  that  he  had  heard  him 
cough  three-and-twenty  times  that  morning."  And  as  for  the 
wall,  it  was  alleged,  that  he  had  taken  it  inadvertently,  to 
save  himself  from  a  shower  of  rain  which  was  then  fallius:. 
The  Censor,  having  consulted  the  men  of  honour  who  sat  at 
his  right  hand  on  the  bench,  found  they  were  all  of  opinion, 
that  the  defence  made  by  the  prisoner's  counsel  did  rather 
aggravate  than  extenuate  his  crime  ;  that  the  motions  and 
intimations  of  the  hat  were  a  token  of  superiority  in  con- 
versation, and  therefore  not  to  be  used  by  the  criminal  to  a 
man  of  the  prosecutor's  quality,  who  was  likewise  vested  with  a 
double  title  to  the  wall  at  the  time  of  tlieir  conversation,  both 
as  it  was  the  upper  hand,  and  as  it  was  a  shelter  from  the 
weather.  The  evidence  being  very  full  and  clear,  the  jury, 
without  going  out  of  court,  declared  their  opinion  unanimously, 
by  the  mouth  of  their  foreman,  *'that  the  prosecutor  was  bound 
in  honour  to  make  the  sun  shine  through  the  criminal," 
or,  as  they  afterwards  explained  themselves,  "  to  whip  him 
through  the  lungs." 

The  Censor,  knitting  his  brows  into  a  fi-own,  and  looking 
very  sternly  upon  the  jury,  after  a  little  pause,  gave  them  to 
know,  "that  this  court  was  erected  for  the  finding  out  of 
penalties  suitable  to  offences,  and  to  restrain  the  outrages  of 
private  justice  -,  and  that  he  expected  they  should  moderate 
their  verdict."     The  iurv  therefore  retired,  and  beinof  willinGf 

(;  c;  2 


i42  THE    TATl.Kn.  [No.  256. 

to  comply  with  the  advices  of  the  Censor,  after  an  hour's  con- 
versation, delivered  their  opinion  as  follows  : 

''  That,  in  consideration  this  was  Peter  Plumb's  first  offence, 
and  that  there  did  not  appear  any  malice  prepense  in  it,  as  also 
that  he  lived  in  good  reputation  among  his  neighbours,  and  that 
his  taking  the  wall  was  only  sc  dcfendemlo,  the  prosecutor  should 
let  him  escape  with  life,  and  content  himself  with  the  slitting 
of  his  nose,  and  the  cutting  off  both  his  ears."  Mr.  Bicker- 
stafP,  smiling  upon  the  court,  told  them,  '•  that  he  thought  the 
punishment,  even  under  its  present  mitigation,  too  severe  ;  and 
that  such  penalties  might  be  of  ill  consequence  in  a  trading 
nation."  He  therefore  pronounced  sentence  against  the 
criminal  in  the  following  manner  :  "  that  his  hat,  which  was 
the  instrument  of  oflPence,  should  be  forfeited  to  the  court ; 
that  the  criminal  should  go  to  the  warehouse  from  whence  he 
came,  and  thence,  as  occasion  should  require,  proceed  to  the 
Exchange,  or  Garraway's  coffee-house,  in  what  manner  he 
pleased  ;  but  that  neither  he,  nor  any  of  the  family  of  the 
Plumbs,  should  hereafter  appear  in  the  streets  of  London  out 
of  their  coaches,  that  so  the  foot-way  might  be  left  open  and 
undisturbed  for  their  betters." 

Dathan,  a  peddling  Jew,  and  T.  E ,   a  Welshman,  were 

indicted  by  the  keeper  of  an  alehouse  in  Westminster,  for 
breaking  the  peace  and  two  earthen  mugs,  in  a  dispute  about 
the  antiquity  of  their  families,  to  the  great  detriment  of  the 
house,  and  disturbance  of  the  whole  neighbourhood.  Dathan 
said  for  himself,  that  he  was  provoked  to  it  by  the  Welshman, 
who  pretended  that  the  Welsh  were  an  antienter  people  than 
the  Jews  ;  "  whereas,"  says  he,  "■  I  can  shew  by  this  genealogy 
in  my  hand,  that  I  am  the  son  of  Mesheck,  that  was  the  son  of 

Naboth,  that  was  the  son  of  Shalem,  that  was  the  son  of ." 

The  Welshman  here  interrupted  him,  and  told  him,  "that  he 
could  produce  sliennalogy  ^^  well  as  himself;"  for  "that  he 
was  John  ap  Eice,  ap  Shenken,  ap  Shones."  He  then  turned 
himself  to  the  Censor,  and  told  him  in  the  same  broken  accent, 
and  with  much  warmth,  "  that  the  Jew  would  needs  uphold, 
that  king   Cadwallader  was    younger   than    Issachar."     Mr. 


Xo.  2o0.]     rKOCEEDTXGS   OF   THE   COUKT   OF   IIOXOFR.     443 

Bickerstaff  seemed  very  much  inclined  to  give  sentence  against 
Dathan,  as  being  a  Jew  ;  but  finding  reasons,  by  some  expres- 
sions which  the  Welshman  let  fall  in  asserting  the  antiquity  of 
his  family,  to  suspect  that  the  said  "Welshman  was  a  Pnr- Ada- 
mite, he  suffered  the  jury  to  go  out,  without  any  previous  ad- 
monition. After  some  time  they  returned,  and  gave  their 
verdict,  ''  that  it  appearing  the  persons  at  the  bar  did  neither 
of  them  wear  a  sword,  and  that  consequently  they  had  no  right 
to  quarrel  upon  a  point  of  honour  ;  to  prevent  such  frivolous 
appeals  for  the  future,  they  should  both  of  them  be  tossed  in 
the  same  blanket,  and  there  adjust  the  superiority  as  they 
could  agree  on  it  between  themselves."  The  Censor  confirmed 
the  verdict. 

Eichard  Xewman  was  indicted  by  major  Punto,  for  having 
used  the  words,  "perhaps  it  may  be  so,"  in  a  dispute  with  the 
said  Major.  The  ]\Iajor  urged,  '•'  that  the  word  jjerhaps  was 
questioning  his  veracity,  and  that  it  was  an  indirect  manner  of 
giving  him  the  lie."  Eichard  Xewman  had  nothing  more  to 
say  for  himself,  than  that  "  he  intended  no  such  thing  ;  "  and 
threw  himself  upon  the  mercy  of  the  court.  The  jury  brought 
in  their  verdict  special. 

Mr.  Bickerstaff  stood  up,  and,  after  having  cast  his  eyes 
over  the  whole  assembly,  hemmed  thrice.  He  then  acquainted 
them,  "  that  he  had  laid  down  a  rule  to  himself,  which  he  was 
resolved  never  to  depart  from,  and  which,  as  he  conceived, 
would  very  much  conduce  to  the  shortening  the  business  of  the 
court  :  I  mean,"  says  he,  ''  never  to  allow  of  the  lie  being  given 
by  construction,  implication,  or  induction,  but  by  the  sole  use 
of  the  word  itself."  He  then  proceeded  to  shew  the  great 
mischiefs  that  had  arisen  to  the  English  nation  from  that 
pernicious  monosyllable  ;  that  it  had  bred  the  most  fatal 
quarrels  between  the  dearest  friends  ;  that  it  had  frequently 
thinned  the  guards,  and  made  great  havock  in  the  army  ;  that 
it  had  sometimes  weakened  the  city  trained-bands ;  and,  in  a 
word,  had  destroyed  many  of  the  bravest  men  in  the  isle  of 
Great-Britain.  For  the  prevention  of  which  evils  for  the 
future,  he  instructed  the  jury  to  present  the  word  itself  as  a 


444  THE    TATLER.  [Xo.  257. 

nuisance  in  the  English  tongue ;  and  farther  promised  them, 
that  he  would,  upon  such  their  preferment,  publish  an  edict  of 
the  court,  for  the  entire  banishment  and  exclusion  of  it  out  of 
the  discourses  and  conversation  of  all  civil  societies. 


VAEIETY  OF   SECTS. 

No.  257.    THURSDAY,  November  30,  1710. 
[Addison  and  Steele.] 

In  nova  fort  animus  mutatas  dicere  formas 
Corpora  :  Dii,  crepti.s,  nam  yds  mutastis  et  illas, 
Aspirate  meis  ! Ovid,  Met.  i.  1. 

Of  bodies  cliang'd  to  various  forms  I  sing  ; 
Ye  gods,  from  whom  these  miracles  did  spring, 
Assist  me  in  this  arduous  task  ! 

Every  nation  is  distinguished  by  productions  that  are 
peculiar  to  it.  Great  Britain  is  particularly  fruitful  in 
religions,  that  shoot  up  and  flourish  in  this  climate  more  than 
any  other.  We  are  so  famous  abroad  for  our  great  variety  of 
sects  and  opinions,  that  an  ingenious  friend  of  mine,  who  is 
lately  returned  from  his  travels,  assures  me,  there  is  a  show  at 
this  time  carried  up  and  down  in  Germany,  which  represents 
all  the  religions  of  Great-Britain  in  wax-work.  Notwithstand- 
ing that  the  pliancy  of  the  matter,  in  which  the  images  are 
wrought,  makes  it  capable  of  being  moulded  into  all  shapes 
and  figures  ;  my  friend  tells  me,  that  he  did  not  think  it 
possible  for  it  to  be  twisted  and  tortured  into  so  many  screwed 
faces,  and  wry  features,  as  appeared  in  several  of  the  figures 
that  composed  the  show.  I  was  indeed  so  pleased  with  the 
design  of  the  German  artist,  that  I  begged  my  friend  to  give 
me  an  account  of  it  in  all  its  particulars,  which  he  did  after  the 
following  manner  : 

"I  have  often,"  says  he,  "been  present  at  a  show  of 
elephants,  camels,  dromedaries,  and  other  strauge  creatures, 


No.  2o7.]  VARIETY    OF    SECTS.  445 

but  I  never  saw  so  great  an  assembly  of  spectators  as  were  met 
tog-ether  at  the  opening'  of  this  great  piece  of  wax-work.  We 
were  all  placed  in  a  large  hall,  according  to  the  price  that  we 
had  paid  for  onr  seats.  The  curtain  that  hung  before  the 
show  was  made  by  a  master  of  tapestry,  wlio  had  woven  it  in 
the  figure  of  a  monstrous  Hydra  that  had  several  heads,  which 
brandished  out  their  tongues,  and  seemed  to  hiss  at  each 
other.  Some  of  these  heads  were  large  and  entire  ;  and  where 
any  of  them  had  been  lopped  away,  tliere  sprouted  up  several 
in  the  room  of  them  ;  insomuch,  that  for  one  head  cut  off,  a 
man  might  see  ten,  twent}^  or  an  hundred,  of  a  smaller  size, 
creeping  thro'  the  wound.  In  short,  the  whole  picture  was 
nothing  but  confusion  and  blood-shed.  On  a  sudden,"  says 
my  friend,  ''  I  was  startled  with  a  flourish  of  many  musical 
instruments  that  I  had  never  heard  before,  which  was  followed 
by  a  short  tune,  if  it  might  be  so  called,  wholly  made  up  of 
jars  and  discords.  Among  the  rest,  there  was  an  organ,  a  bag- 
pipe, a  groaning  board,  a  stentorophontic  trumpet,  with  several 
wind  instruments  of  a  most  disagreeable  sound,  which  I  do  not 
so  much  as  know  the  names  of.  After  a  short  flourish,  the 
curtain  was  drawn  up,  and  we  were  presented  with  the  most 
extraordinary  assembly  of  figures  that  ever  entered  into  a  man's 
imagination.  The  design  of  the  workman  was  so  well  ex- 
pressed in  the  dumb  show  before  us,  that  it  was  not  hard  for 
an  Englishman  to  comprehend  the  meaning  of  it. 

''  The  principal  figures  were  placed  in  a  row,  consisting 
of  seven  persons.  The  middle  figure,  which  immediately 
attracted  the  eyes  of  the  whole  company,  and  was  much  bigger 
than  the  rest,  was  formed  like  a  matron,  dressed  in  the  habit 
of  an  elderly  woman  of  quality  in  queen  Elizabeth's  days.  The 
most  remarkable  parts  of  her  dress  were,  the  beaver  with  the 
steeple  crown,  the  scarf  that  was  darker  than  sable,  and  the 
lawn  apron  that  was  whiter  than  ermin.  Her  gown  was  of  the 
richest  black  velvet ;  and  just  upon  her  heart  studded  witli 
large  diamonds  of  an  inestimable  value,  disposed  in  the  form 
of  a  cross.  She  bore  an  inexpressible  cheerfulness  and  dignity 
in  her  aspect ;  and,  though  she  seemed  in  years,  approached 


UQ  THE    TATLER.  [No.  257. 

"\vith  so  much  spirit  and  vivacity,  as  gave  her  at  the  same  time 
an  air  of  old  age  and  immortality.  I  found  my  heart  touched 
with  so  much  love  and  reverence  at  the  sight  of  her,  that  the 
tears  ran  down  my  face  as  I  looked  upon  her  ;  and  still  the 
more  I  looked  upon  her,  the  more  my  heart  was  melted  with 
the  sentiments  of  filial  tenderness  and  duty.  I  discovered 
every  moment  something  so  charming  in  this  figure,  that  I 
could  scarce  take  my  eyes  off  it.  On  its  right-hand  there  sat 
the  figure  of  a  woman  so  covered  with  ornaments,  that  her 
fece,  her  body,  and  her  hands,  were  almost  entirely  hid 
under  them.  The  little  you  could  see  of  her  face  was  painted  ; 
and,  what  I  thought  very  odd,  had  something  in  it  like 
artificial  wrinkles  ;  but  I  was  the  less  surprized  at  it,  when  I 
saw  upon  her  forehead  an  old-fashioned  tower  of  gray-hairs. 
Her  head-dress  rose  very  high  by  three  several  stories  or 
degrees  ;  her  garments  had  a  thousand  colours  in  them,  and 
were  embroidered  with  crosses  in  gold,  silver,  and  silk.  She 
had  nothing  on,  so  much  as  a  glove  or  a  slipper,  which  was 
not  marked  with  this  figure  ;  nay,  so  superstitiously  fond  did 
she  appear  of  it,  that  she  sat  cross-legged.  I  was  quickly  sick 
of  this  tawdry  composition  of  ribbands,  silks,  and  jewels,  and 
therefore  cast  my  eye  on  a  dame  which  was  just  the  reverse  of 
it.  I  need  not  tell  my  reader,  that  the  lady  before  described 
was  Popery,  or  that  she  I  am  going  to  describe  is  Presbytery. 
She  sat  on  the  left  hand  of  the  venerable  matron,  and  so  much 
resembled  her  in  the  features  of  her  countenance,  that  she 
seemed  her  sister;  but  at  the  same  time  that  one  observed  a 
likeness  in  her  beauty,  one  could  not  but  take  notice,  that 
there  was  something  in  it  sickly  and  splenetic.  Her  face  had 
enough  to  discover  the  relation  ;  but  it  was  drawn  up  into  a 
peevish  figure,  soured  with  discontent,  and  overcast  with 
melancholy.  She  seemed  offended  at  the  matron  for  the  shape 
of  her  hat,  as  too  nnich  resembling  the  triple  coronet  of  the 
person  who  sat  by  her.  One  might  see  likewise,  that  she  dis- 
sented from  the  white  apron  and  the  cross  ;  for  w-hich  reasons 
she  had  made  herself  a  plain  homely  dow^dy,  and  turned  her 
face  towards  the  sectaries  that  sat  on  her  left-hand,  as  being 


No.  257.]  VAIUETY    OF    SECTS.  147 

afraid  of  looking   upon  the  matron,  lest  she  should  sec  the 
harlot  by  her. 

"On  the  right  liand  of  Popery  sat  Judaism,  represented  Ijy 
an  old  man  embroidered  with  phylacteries,  and  distinguished 
by  many  typieal  figures,  which  I  had  not  skill  enough  to 
unriddle.  He  was  placed  among  the  rubbish  of  a  temple  ; 
but,  instead  of  weeping  over  it,  which  I  should  have 
expected  from  him,  he  was  counting  out  a  bag  of  money  upon 
the  ruins  of  it. 

''On  his  right  hand  was  Deism,  or  Natural  Religion. 
This  was  a  figure  of  a  half-naked  awkward  country  wench, 
who,  with  proper  ornaments  and  education,  would  have  made 
an  agreeable  and  beautiful  appearance ;  but  for  want  of 
those  advantages,  was  such  a  spectacle  as  a  man  would  blush 
to  look  upon. 

"  I  have  now,"  continued  my  friend,  ''  given  you  an  account 
of  those  who  were  placed  on  the  right  hand  of  the  matron, 
and  who,  according  to  the  order  in  which  they  sat,  were 
Deism,  Judaism,  and  Popery.  On  the  left-hand,  as  I  told  you, 
appeared  Presbytery.  The  next  to  her  was  a  figure  which 
somewhat  puzzled  me  :  it  was  that  of  a  man  looking,  with 
hoiTor  in  his  eyes,  upon  a  silver  bason  filled  with  water. 
Observing  something  in  his  countenance  that  looked  like 
lunacy,  I  fancied  at  first,  that  he  was  to  express  that  kind  of 
distraction  which  the  physicians  call  the  hyclro-jjliolia ;  but 
considering  what  the  intention  of  the  show  was,  I  immediately 
recollected  myself,  and  concluded  it  to  be  Anabaptism. 

"  The  next  figure  was  a  man  that  sat  under  a  most  profound 
composure  of  mind.  He  wore  a  hat  whose  brims  were 
exactly  parallel  with  the  horizon.  His  garment  had  neither 
sleeve  nor  skirt,  nor  so  much  as  a  superfluous  button.  What 
they  called  his  cravat,  was  a  little  piece  of  white  linen  quilled 
with  great  exactness,  and  hanging  below  his  chin  about  two 
inches.  Seeing  a  book  in  his  hand,  I  asked  our  artist  what  it 
was ;  who  told  me  it  was  '•'  The  Quaker's  Religion ;  "  upon 
which  I  desired  a  sight  of  it.  Upon  perusal,  I  found  it  to  be 
nothing  but  a  new-foshioned  grammai*,  or  an  art  of  abridging 


448  THE    TATLER.  [Xo.  2ru. 

ordinary  discourse.  Tlie  nouns  were  reduced  to  a  very  small 
number,  as  f/ie  Light,  Friend,  Balnjlon.  The  principal  of  his 
pronouns  was  fJwu  ;  and  as  for  you,  ye  and  yours,  I  found  they 
were  not  looked  upon  as  parts  of  speech  iu  this  grammar.  All 
the  verbs  wanted  the  second  person  plural  ;  the  participles 
ended  all  in  iny  or  ed,  which  were  marked  with  a  particular 
accent.  There  were  no  adverbs  besides  nay  and  yea.  The 
same  thrift  was  observed  in  the  prepositions.  The  conjunc- 
tions were  only  Jiem  !  and  lia  !  and  the  interjections  brought 
under  the  three  heads  offiyliting,  solUny,  and  groaning. 

"  There  was  at  the  end  of  the  grammar  a  little  nomenclature, 
called,  '  The  Christian  Man's  Vocabulary,'  which  gave  new 
appellations,  or,  if  you  will,  Christian  names,  to  almost  every 
thing  in  life.  I  replaced  the  book  in  the  hand  of  the  figure, 
not  without  admiring  the  simplicity  of  its  garb,  speech,  and 
behaviour. 

"Just  opposite  to  this  row  of  religions,  there  was  a  statue 
dressed  in  a  fool's  coat,  with  a  cap  of  bells  upon  his  head, 
laughing  and  pointing  at  the  figures  that  stood  before  him. 
This  idiot  is  supposed  to  say  in  his  heart  what  David's  fool 
did  some  thousands  of  years  ago,  and  was  therefore  designed 
as  a  proper  representative  of  those  among  us,  who  are 
called  Atheists  and  Infidels  by  others,  and  Freethinkers  by 
themselves. 

"  There  are  many  other  groups  of  figures  which  I  did  not 
know  the  meaning  of;  but  seeing  a  collection  of  both  sexes 
turning  their  backs  upon  the  company,  and  laying  their  heads 
very  close  together,  I  inquired  after  their  religion,  and  found 
that  they  called  themselves  the  Philadelphians,  or  the  family 
of  love. 

"  In  the  opposite  corner  there  sat  another  little  congregation 
of  strange  figures,  opening  their  mouths  as  wide  as  they  could 
gape,  and  distinguished  by  the  title  of  the  Sweet  Singers 
of  Israel. 

"  I  must  not  omit,  that  in  this  assembly  of  wax  there  were 
several  pieces  that  moved  by  clock-work,  and  gave  great 
satisfaction  to  the  spectators.     Behind  the  matron  there  stood 


Xo.  2.-)9.J      ITtOCKEDIXGS   OF  THE   COmT   OF   IlOXOUPt.    449 

one  of  these  figures,  and  behind  Popery  another,  which,  as  the 
artist  told  ns,  were  each  of  them  the  genius  of  the  person  they 
attended.  That  behind  Popery  represented  Persecution,  and 
the  other  Moderation.  The  first  of  these  moved  by  secret 
springs  towards  a  great  heap  of  dead  Ijodies,  tliat  lay  piled 
upon  one  another  at  a  considerable  distance  behind  the  prin- 
cipal figures.  There  were  written  on  the  foreheads  of  these 
dead  men  several  words,  as,  Prm- Adamites,  Sabbatarians, 
Camaronians,  Maggleton  ians,  Browmsfs,  Tndejmiden  fs,  Masonites, 
Camissars,  and  the  like.  At  the  approach  of  Persecution,  it 
was  so  contrived,  that,  as  she  held  up  her  bloody  flag,  the 
whole  assembly  of  dead  men,  like  those  in  the  "  Rehearsal," 
started  up  and  drew  their  swords.  This  was  followed  by  great 
clashings  and  noise,  when,  in  the  midst  of  the  tumult,  the 
figure  of  Moderation  moved  gently  towards  this  new  army, 
which,  upon  her  holding  up  a  paper  in  her  hand,  inscribed 
'Liberty  of  Conscience,'  immediately  fell  into  a  heap  of 
carcasses,  remaining  in  the  same  quiet  posture  in  which  they 
lay  at  first." 


PROCEEDINGS  OF  THE  COUET  OF 

HONOUE.-CONTINUED. 

No.  250.     TUESDAY,  December  5,  17 lo.     [Addlsox.] 

Vexat  censura  columbas.  Juv.  Sat.  ii.  63. 


Censure  acquits  the  crow,  condemns  the  dove. 

Elizabeth  Makebate,  of  the  parish  of  St.  Catharine's, 
spinster,  was  indicted  for  surreptitiously  taking  away  the 
hassock  from  under  the  lady  Grave- Airs,  between  the  hours  of 
four  and  five,  on  Sunday  the  2Gth  of  Xovember.  The  pro- 
secutor deposed,  "  that  as  she  stood  up  to  make  a  courtesy  to 
a  person  of  quality  in  a  neighbouring  pew,  the  criminal 
conveyed  away  the  hassock  by  stealth  ;  insomuch,  that  the 
prosecutor  was  obliged  to  sit  all  the  while  she  was  at  church, 


450  THE    TATLER.  [Xo.  259. 

or  to  say  her  prayers  in  a  posture  that  did  not  become  a 
woman  of  her  quality."  The  prisoner  pleaded  inadvertency  ; 
and  the  jury  wore  going  to  bring  it  in  chance-medley,  had 
not  several  witnesses  been  produced  against  the  said  Elizabeth 
Makebate,  that  she  was  an  old  offender,  and  a  woman  of  a 
bad  reputatiou.  It  appeared  in  particular,  that,  on  the  Sunday 
before,  she  had  detracted  from  a  new  petticoat  of  Mrs.  Mary 
Doelittle,  having  said,  in  the  hearing  of  several  credible 
witnesses,  "  that  the  said  petticoat  was  scoured,"  to  the  great 
grief  and  detriment  of  the  said  Mary  Doelittle.  There  were 
likewise  many  evidences  produced  against  the  criminal,  that 
though  she  never  failed  to  come  to  Church  on  Sunday,  she 
was  a  most  notorious  sabbath-breaker  ;  and  that  she  spent 
her  whole  time,  during  divine  service,  in  disparaging  other 
people's  cloaths,  and  whispering  to  those  who  sat  next  her. 
Upon  the  whole,  she  was  found  guilty  of  the  indictment,  and 
received  sentence  "  to  ask  pardon  of  the  prosecutor  upon  her 
bare  knees,  without  either  cushion  or  hassock  under  her,  in 
the  face  of  the  court." 

N.B.  As  soon  as  the  sentence  was  executed  on  the  criminal, 
which  was  done  in  open  court  with  the  utmost  severity,  the 
first  lady  of  the  bench  on  Mr.  Bickerstaff's  right-hand  stood 
up,  and  made  a  motion  to  the  court,  "  that  whereas  it  was 
impossible  for  women  of  fashion  to  dress  themselves  before 
the  church  was  half  done  ;  and  whereas  many  confusions  and 
inconveniences  did  arise  thereupon ;  it  might  be  lawful  for 
them  to  send  a  footman  in  order  to  keep  their  places,  as  was 
usual  in  other  polite  and  well-regulated  assemblies."  The 
motion  was  ordered  to  be  entered  in  the  books,  and  considered 
at  a  more  convenient  time. 

Charles  Cambrick,  linen-draper,  in  the  city  of  Westminster, 
was  indicted  for  speaking  obscenely  to  the  Lady  Penelope 
Touchwood.  It  appeared,  that  the  prosecutor  and  her  woman 
going  in  a  stage-coach  from  London  to  Brentford,  where  they 
were  to  be  met  by  the  lady's  own  chariot,  the  criminal  and 
another  of  his  acquaintance  travelled  with  them  in  the  same 
coach,  at  which  time  the  prisoner  talked  bawdy  for  the  space 


>;u.  2.yj0    riiocEEDi:sGs  of  the  oorirr  ur  iiumau.  aoi 

of  three  miles  and  a  half.  The  prosecutor  alleged,  "  that 
OYer-against  the  Old  Fox  at  Knightsbridge  he  mentioned  the 
word  linen ;  that  at  the  farther  end  of  Kensington  he  made 
use  of  the  term  smock  ;  and  that,  before  he  came  to  Hammer- 
smith, he  talked  almost  a  quarter  of  an  hour  upon  wedding- 
shifts."  The  prosecutor's  woman  confirmed  what  her  lady 
had  said,  and  added  farther  that  she  had  never  seen  her  lady 
in  so  great  a  confusion,  and  in  such  a  taking,  as  she  was 
during  the  whole  discourse  of  the  criminal.  The  prisoner 
had  little  to  say  for  himself,  but,  ^'  that  he  talked  only  in  his 
own  trade,  and  meant  no  hurt  by  what  he  said."  The  jury, 
howeyer,  found  him  guilty,  and  represented  by  their  fore- 
woman, that  such  discourses  were  apt  to  sully  the  imagination  ; 
and  that,  by  a  concatenation  of  ideas,  the  word  linen  implied 
many  things,  that  were  not  proper  to  be  stirred  up  in  the 
mind  of  a  woman  who  was  of  the  ])rosecutor's  quality,  and 
therefore  gave  it  as  their  verdict,  '*  that  the  linendraper  should 
lose  his  tongue."  Mr.  Bickerstaif  said,  he  thought  the  pro- 
secutor's ears  were  as  much  to  blame  as  the  prisoner's  tongue, 
and  therefore  gave  sentence  as  follows  :  ''  that  they  should 
both  be  placed  over-against  one  another  in  the  midst  of  the 
court,  there  to  remain  for  the  space  of  one  quarter  of  an  hour, 
during  which  time  the  linen-draper  was  to  be  gagged,  and 
the  lady  to  hold  her  hands  close  upon  l)oth  her  ears  ;  "  which 
was  executed  accordingly. 

Edward  Callicoat  was  indicted  as  an  accomplice  to  Charles 
Cambrick,  for  that  he  the  said  Edward  Callicoat  did,  by  his 
silence  and  smiles,  seem  to  approve  and  abet  the  said  Charles 
Cambrick  in  every  thing  he  said.  It  appeared,  that  the 
prisoner  was  foreman  of  the  shop  to  the  aforesaid  Charles 
Cambrick,  and,  by  his  post,  obliged  to  smile  at  every  thing 
that  the  other  should  be  pleased  to  say  :  upon  which  he  was 
acquitted. 

Josiali  Shallow  was  indicted  in  the  name  of  Dame  Winifred, 
sole  relict  of  Richard  Dainty,  esquire,  for  having  said  several 
times  in  company,  and  in  the  hearing  of  several  persons  there 
present,  "  that  he  was  extremely  obliged  to  the  widow  Dainty, 


452  THE    TATLEE.  [No.  259. 

and  that  lie  should  never  be  able  sufficiently  to  express  his 
gratitude."  The  prosecutor  urged,  that  this  might  blast  her 
reputation,  and  that  it  was  in  effect  a  boasting  of  favours 
which  he  had  never  received.  The  prisoner  seemed  to  be 
much  astonished  at  the  construction  which  was  put  upon  his 
words,  and  said,  ''  that  he  meant  nothing  by  them,  but  that 
the  widow  had  befriended  him  a  lease,  and  was  very  kind  to 
his  younger  sister."  The  jury  finding  him  a  little  weak  in  his 
understanding,  without  going  out  of  the  court,  brought  in 
their  verdict  ujnoramus. 

Ursula  Goodenough  was  accused  by  the  Lady  Betty 
Wou'dbe,  for  having  said,  that  she,  the  Lady  Betty  Wou'dbe, 
was  painted.  The  prisoner  brought  several  persons  of  good 
credit  to  witness  to  her  reputation,  and  proved,  by  undeniable 
evidences,  that  she  was  never  at  the  place  where  the  words 
were  said  to  have  been  uttered.  The  Censor,  observing  the 
behaviour  of  tlie  prosecutor,  found  reason  to  believe,  that  she 
had  indicted  the  prisoner  for  no  other  reason,  Ijut  to  make  her 
complexion  be  taken  notice  of ;  which  indeed  was  very  fresh 
and  beautiful  :  he  therefore  asked  the  offender,  with  a  very 
stern  voice,  how  she  could  presume  to  spread  so  groundless  a 
report  ?  and  whether  she  saw  any  colours  in  the  Lady 
Wou'dbe's  face  that  could  procure  credit  by  such  a  falsehood  ? 
"  Do  you  see,"  says  he,  "  any  lilies  or  roses  in  her  cheeks,  any 
bloom,  any  probability  ?  "  The  prosecutor,  not  able  to  bear 
such  language  any  longer,  told  him,  ''  that  he  talked  like  a 
blind  old  fool,  and  she  Avas  ashamed  to  have  entertained  any 
opinion  of  his  wisdom  : "  but  she  was  put  to  silence,  and 
sentenced  *'to  wear  her  mask  for  five  months,  and  not  to 
presume  to  shew  her  face  until  the  town  should  be  empty." 

Benjamin  Buzzard,  esquire,  was  indicted  for  having  told  the 
Lady  Everbloom  at  a  public  ball,  that  she  looked  very  well  for 
a  woman  of  her  years.  The  prisoner  not  denying  the  fact,  and 
persisting  before  the  court  tliat  he  looked  upon  it  as  a  compli- 
ment, the  jury  brought  him  in  non  compos  iucntis. 


Xo.  2G2.]    rROCEEDIXGS   OF  THE   COURT   OF  IlOXOUil.      453 

PEOCEEDINGS  OF  THE   COURT  OF 

H0N0UE.-CONTIMEi>. 

No.  262.    TUESDAY,  December  12,  1710.    [Addlsox.] 

Verba  togie  sequeris,  junctura  callidus  acri, 
Ore  teres  modico,  pallentes  raderc  mores 
Doctus,  et  ingenuo  culx)am  dcsigere  ludo. 

Pers.  Sat.  V.  14. 

Soft  elocution  does  thy  stjde  renown, 
And  the  sweet  accents  of  the  jDeacef  ul  gown  ; 
Oentie  or  sharj?,  according  to  thj^  choice, 
To  laugh  at  follies,  or  to  lash  at  vice. 

Timothy  Theatall,  gentleman,  was  indicted  bj  several 
ladies  of  his  sister's  acquaintance  for  a  yeiy  rude  affront 
offered  to  tlieni  at  an  eutertainment,  to  which  he  had  invited 
them  on  Tuesday  the  seventh  of  November  last  past,  between 
the  hours  of  eight  and  nine  in  the  evening.  The  indictment 
set  forth,  "  that  the  said  Mr.  Treatall,  upon  the  serving  up  of 
the  supper,  desired  the  ladies  to  take  their  jDlaces  according  to 
their  different  age  and  seniority ;  for  that  it  was  the  way 
always  at  his  table  to  pay  respect  to  years."  The  indictment 
added,  "  that  this  produced  an  unspeakable  confusion  in  the 
company  ;  for  that  the  ladies,  who  before  had  pressed  to- 
gether for  a  place  at  the  upper  end  of  the  table,  immediately 
crowded  with  the  same  disorder  towards  the  end  that  was  quite 
opposite  ;  that  Mrs.  Frontley  had  the  insolence  to  clap  herself 
down  at  the  very  lowest  place  of  the  table  ;  that  the  widow 
Partlet  seated  herself  on  the  right-hand  of  Mrs.  Frontley, 
alleging  for  her  excuse,  that  no  ceremony  was  to  be  used  at  a 
round  table ;  that  ^Irs.  Fidget  and  Mrs.  Fescue,  disputed 
above  half-an-hour  for  the  same  chair,  and  that  the  latter 
would  not  give  up  the  cause  nntil  it  was  decided  by  the  parish 
register,  which  happened  to  be  kept  hard  by."  The  indict- 
ment farther  saith,  "  that  the  rest  of  the  company  who  sat 
down  did  it  with  a  reserve  to  their  right,  which  they  were  at 
liberty  to  assert  on  another  occasion  ;  and  that  Mrs.  Mary 


45i  THE    TATLER.  \;i\o.  262. 

Pippe,  tin  old  maid,  was  placed  by  the  iinanimoiis  \'ote  of  the 
Avhole  company  at  the  npper  end  of  the  table,  fi'om  wlience  she 
had  the  confusion  to  behold  several  mothers  of  families  among 
her  inferiors."  The  criminal  alleged  in  his  defence,  ''  that 
what  he  had  done  was  to  raise  mirth,  and  avoid  ceremony  ; 
and  that  the  ladies  did  not  complain  of  his  rudeness  until  the 
next  morning,  having  eaten  up  what  he  had  provided  for  them 
with  great  readiness  and  alacrity."  The  Censor,  frowning 
upon  him,  told  him,  "  that  he  ought  not  to  discover  so  much 
levity  in  matters  of  a  serious  nature ;  "  and,  upon  the  jury's 
bringing  him  in  guilty,  sentenced  him  "  to  treat  the  whole 
assembly  of  ladies  over  again,"  and  to  take  care  that  he  did  it 
with  the  decorum  which  was  due  to  persons  of  their  quality. 

Rebecca  Shapely,  spinster,  was  indicted  by  Mrs.  Sarah 
Smack,  for  speaking  many  Words  reflecting  upon  her  reputation, 
and  the  heels  of  her  silk  slippers,  which  the  prisoner  had  mali- 
ciously suggested  to  be  two  inches  higher  than  they  really 
were.  The  prosecutor  urged,  as  an  aggravation  of  her  guilt, 
that  the  prisoner  was  "herself  guilty  of  the  same  kind  of 
forgery  which  "she  had  laid  to  the  prosecutor's  charge  ;  for 
that  she,  the  said  Rebecca  Shapely,  did  always  wear  a  pair  of 
steel  boddice,  and  a  false  rump."  The  Censor  ordered  the 
slippers  to  be  produced  in  open  court,  where  the  heels  were 
adjudged  to  be  of  the  statutable  size.  He  then  ordered  the 
grand  jury  to  search  the  criminal,  who,  after  some  time  spent 
therein,  acquitted  her  of  the  bodice,  but  found  her  guilty  of 
the  rump  :  upon  wdiich  she  received  sentence  as  is  usual  in 
such  cases. 

William  Trippet,  esquire,  of  the  J\liddle  Temple,  brought 
his  action  against  the  lady  Elizabeth  Prudely,  for  having 
refused  him  her  hand  as  he  offered  to  lead  her  to  her  coach 
from  the  opera.  The  plaintiff"  set  forth,  that  he  had  entered 
himself  into  the  list  of  those  volunteers,  who  officiate  every 
night  behind  the  boxes  as  gentlemen-ushers  of  the  play-house  : 
that  he  had  been  at  a  considerable  charge  in  white  gloves, 
periwigs,  and  snufiP-boxes,  in  order  to  quality  himself  for  that 
employment,  and  in  hopes  of  making  his  fortune  by  it.      The 


Xo.  202.]     PPvOr'EEDIXOS  OF   THE  COURT   OF  IIONOUPv.       45.) 

counsel  for  the  defendant  replied,  that  the  plaintiff  had  given 
out  that  he  was  within  a  month  of  wedding  their  client,  and 
that  she  had  refused  her  hand  to  him  in  ceremony,  lest  he 
should  interpret  it  as  a  promise  that  she  would  give  it  him  in 
marriage.  As  soon  as  the  pleadings  on  both  sides  were 
finished,  the  Censor  ordered  the  plaintiff  to  be  cashiered  from 
his  ofhce  of  gentleman-usher  to  the  play-house,  since  it  was 
too  plain  that  he  had  undertaken  it  with  an  ill  design  ;  and  at 
the  same  time  ordered  the  defendant  either  to  marry  the  said 
plaintiff,  or  to  pay  him  half-a- crown  for  the  new  pair  of  gloves 
and  coach-hire  that  he  was  at  the  expence  of  in  her  service. 

The  ladv  Townly  brouo-ht  an  action  of  debt  a^'ainst  Mrs. 
Flambeau,  for  that  the  said  Mrs.  Flambeau  had  not  been  to 
see  the  lady  Townly,  and  wish  her  joy,  since  her  marriage  with 
Sir  Ralph,  notwithstanding  she,  the  said  lady  Townly,  had 
paid  Mrs.  Flambeau  a  visit  upon  her  first  coming  to  town. 
It  was  urged  in  the  behalf  of  the  defendant  that  the  plaintiff 
had  never  given  her  any  regular  notice  of  her  being  in  town  ; 
that  tlie  visit  she  alledged  had  been  made  on  Monday,  which 
she  knew  was  a  day  on  which  ^Mrs.  Flambeau  was  always 
abroad,  having  set  aside  that  only  day  in  the  week  to  mind  the 
affairs  of  her  family  :  that  the  servant,  who  enquired  whether 
she  was  at  home,  did  not  give  the  visiting  knock  :  that  it  was 
not  between  the  hours  of  five  and  eight  in  the  evening  ;  that 
there  were  no  candles  lighted  vp :  that  it  was  not  on  Mrs. 
Flambeau's  day  :  and,  in  short,  that  there  was  not  one  of  the 
essential  points  observed  that  constitute  a  visit.  She  farther 
proved  by  her  porter's  book,  Avhich  was  produced  in  court, 
that  she  had  paid  the  lady  Townly  a  visit  on  the  twenty-fourth 
day  of  March,  just  before  her  leaving  the  town,  in  the  year 
seventeen  hundred  and  nine-ten  for  which  she  was  still  creditor 
to  the  said  lady  Townly.  To  this  the  plaintiff  only  repUed, 
that  she  was  now  under  covert,  and  not  liable  to  any  debts 
contracted  when  she  was  a  single  woman.  Mr.  Bickcrstaff 
finding  the  cause  to  be  very  intricate,  and  that  several  points 
of  honour  were  likely  to  arise  in  it,  he  deferred  giving  judgment 
upon  it  until  the  next  session  day,  at  which  time  he  ordered 

H    11 


4o6  THE    TATLEE.  [Xo.  2G3. 

the  ladies  on  his  left-hand  to  present  to  the  court  a  table  of 
all  the  laws  relating  to  visits. 

"Winifred  Leer  brought  an  action  against  Richard  Sly  for 
having  broken  a  marriage  contract,  and  wedded  another 
woman,  after  lie  had  engaged  himself  to  marry  the  said 
Winifred  Leer.  She  alledged,  that  he  had  ogled  her  twice  at 
an  opera,  thrice  in  St.  James's  church,  and  once  at  Powel's 
puppet-show,  at  which  time  he  promised  her  marriage  by  a 
side-glance,  as  her  friend  could  testify  that  sat  by  her.  Mr. 
Bickerstaff  finding  that  the  defendant  had  made  no  farther 
overture  of  love  or  marriage,  but  by  looks  and  ocular  engage- 
ment ;  yet  at  the  same  time  considering  how  very  apt  such 
impudent  seducers  are  to  lead  the  ladies'  hearts  astray,  ordered 
the  criminal  "  to  stand  upon  the  stage  in  the  Hay-market,  be- 
tween each  act  of  the  new  opera,  there  to  be  exposed  to  public 
view  as  a  false  ogler." 

Upon  the  rising  of  the  court,  Mr.  Bickerstaff'  having  taken 
one  of  these  counterfeits  in  the  very  fact,  as  he  was  ogling  a 
lady  of  the  grand  jury,  ordered  him  to  be  seized,  and  pi'osecuted 
upon  the  statute  of  ogling.  He  hkewise  directed  the  clerk  of 
the  court  to  draw  up  an  edict  against  these  common  cheats, 
that  make  women  believe  they  are  distracted  for  them,  by 
staring  them  out  of  countenance,  and  often  blast  a  lady's 
reputation,  whom  they  never  spoke  to,  by  saucy  looks  and 
distant  familiarities. 


LATE  HOUES. 

No.  263.     THURSDAY,  December  14,  1710.     [Steele.] 

Minima  conlentos  nocte  Britannos.         Juv.  Sat.  ii.  161. 
Britons  contented  witli  the  shortest  night. 

An  old  friend  of  mine  being  lately  come  to  town,  I  went  to 
see  him  on  Tuesday  last  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
with  a  design  to  sit  with  him  an  hour  or  two,  and  talk  over 


Xo.  2G3.]  LATE   HOURS.  457 

old  stories  ;  l3ut,  upon  enquiry  after  him,  I  found  lie  was  gone 
to-bed.  The  next  morning,  as  soon  as  I  was  up  and  dressed, 
and  had  dispatched  a  little  business,  I  came  again  to  my 
fi'iend's  house  about  eleven  o'clock,  with  a  design  to  renew  my 
visit ;  but,  upon  asking  for  him,  his  servant  told  me  he  Avas 
just  sat  down  to  dinner.  In  short,  I  found  that  my  old- 
fashioned  friend  religiously  adhered  to  the  example  of  his  fore- 
fathers, and  observed  the  same  hours  that  had  been  kept  in  the 
family  ever  since  the  Conquest. 

It  is  very  plain,  that  the  night  was  much  longer  formerly  in 
this  island  than  it  is  at  present.  By  the  night,  I  mean  that 
portion  of  time  which  nature  has  thrown  into  darkness,  and 
which  the  wisdom  of  mankind  had  formerly  dedicated  to  rest 
and  silence.  This  used  to  begin  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
and  conclude  at  six  in  the  morninsr.  The  curfeu,  or  ei2:ht 
o'clock  bell,  was  the  signal  throughout  the  nation  for  putting 
out  their  candles  and  o-oino;  to-bed. 

Our  grandmothers,  though  they  were  wont  to  sit  up  the  last 
in  the  family,  were  all  of  them  fast  asleep  at  the  same  hours  that 
their  daughters  are  busy  at  crimp  and  basset.  Modern  statesmen 
are  concerting  schemes,  and  engaged  in  the  depth  of  politics  at  the 
time  when  their  forefathers  were  laid  down  quietly  to  rest,  and  had 
nothing  in  their  heads  but  dreams.  As  we  have  thus  thrown 
business  and  pleasure  into  the  hours  of  rest,  and  by  that  means 
made  the  natural  night  but  half  as  long  as  it  should  be,  we 
are  forced  to  piece  it  out  with  a  great  part  of  the  morning  ;  so 
that  near  two-thirds  of  the  nation  lie  fast  asleep  for  several 
hours  in  broad  daylight.  This  irregularity  is  grown  so  very 
fashionable  at  present,  that  there  is  scarce  a  lady  of  quality  in 
Great  Britain  that  ever  saw  the  sun  rise.  And,  if  the  humour 
increases  in  proportion  to  what  it  has  done  of  late  years,  it  is 
not  impossible  but  our  children  may  hear  the  bell-man  going 
about  the  streets  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  the 
watch  making  their  rounds  initil  eleven.  This  unaccountable 
disposition  in  mankind  to  continue  awake  in  the  night,  and 
sleep  in  the  sunshine,  has  made  me  enquire,  whether  the  same 
change  of  inclination  has  happened  to  any  other  animals  ? 

ir  ir  2 


4o8  THE    TATLEPv.  [Xo.  263. 

For  this  reason,  I  desired  a  friend  of  mine  in  the  country  to 
let  me  know,  whether  the  lark  rises  as  early  as  he  did  formerly  ; 
and  whether  the  cock  begins  to  crow  at  his  nsual  hour.  ^Ty 
friend  has  answered  me,  *'  that  his  poultry  are  as  regular  as 
ever,  and  that  all  the  birds  and  beasts  of  his  neighbourhood 
keep  the  same  hours  that  they  have  observed  in  the  memory  of 
man  ;  and  the  same  which,  in  all  probability,  they  have  kept 
for  these  five  thousand  years." 

If  you  would  see  the  innovations  that  have  been  made 
among  us  in  this  particular,  you  may  only  look  into  the  hours 
of  colleges,  where  they  still  dine  at  eleven,  and  swp  at  six, 
■which  were  doubtless  the  hours  of  the  whole  nation  at  the 
time  when  those  places  were  founded.  But  at  present,  the 
courts  of  justice  are  scarce  opened  in  '\Yestminster-hall  at  the 
time  when  AVilliam  Eufus  used  to  go  to  dinner  in  it.  All 
business  is  driven  forward.  The  land-marks  of  our  fathers,  if 
I  may  so  call  them,  are  removed,  and  planted  farther  up  into 
the  day  ;  insomuch,  that  I  am  afraid  our  clergy  will  be  obliged, 
if  they  expect  full  congregations,  not  to  look  any  more  upon 
ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  as  a  canonical  hour.  In  my  own 
memory,  the  dinner  has  crept  by  degrees  from  tiuelve  o'clock 
to  three,  and  where  it  will  fix  nobody  knows. 

I  have  sometimes  thought  to  draw  up  a  memorial  in  the 
behalf  of  supper  against  dinner,  setting  forth,  that  the  said 
dinner  has  made  several  encroachments  upon  the  said  supper, 
and  entered  very  far  upon  his  frontiers  ;  that  he  has  banished 
him  out  of  several  families,  and  in  all  has  driven  him  from  his 
head  quarters,  and  forced  him  to  make  his  retreat  into  the 
hours  of  midnight  :  and,  in  short,  that  he  is  now  in  danger  of 
being  entirely  confounded  and  lost  in  a  breakfast.  Those  who 
have  read  Lucian,  and  seen  the  complaints  of  the  letter  T 
against  S,  upon  account  of  many  injuries  and  usurpations  of 
the  same  nature,  will  not,  I  believe,  think  such  a  memorial 
forced  and  unnatural.  If  dinner  has  been  thus  postponed,  or, 
if  you  please,  kept  back  from  time  to  time,  you  may  be  sure 
that  it  lias  been  in  compliance  with  the  other  business  of  tlie 
day,   and   that  supper   has  still   observed  a  proportionable 


Xo.  203.]  LATE    IIOUES.  450 

distance.    There  is  a  venerable  proverb,  which  we  have  all  of 
us  heard  in  our  infimcj,  of  "  putting  the  children  to-bed,  and 
laying  the  goose  to  the  fire."     This  was  one  of  the  jocular 
sayings  of  our  forefathers,  bat  may  be  properly  used  in  the 
literal  sense  at  present.     Who  would  not  wonder  at  this  per- 
verted relish  of  those  who  are  reckoned  the  most  polite  part  of 
mankind,  that  prefer  sea-coals  and  candles  to  the  sun,  and 
exchange  so  many  cheerful  morning  hours,  for  the  pleasures  of 
midnight  revels  and  debauches  ?     If  a  man  was  only  to  consult 
his  health,  he  would  choose  to  live  his  whole  time,  if  possible, 
in  day-light  ;  and  to  retire  out  of  the  world  into  silence  and 
sleep,  while   the   raw   damps    and  unwholesome  vapours   fly 
abroad,  without  a  sun  to  disperse,  moderate,  or  controul  them. 
For  my  own  part,  I  value  an  hour  in  the  morning  as  much  as 
common  libertines  do   an   hour  at   midnight.     When  I   find 
myself  awakened  into  being,  and  perceive   my  life  renewed 
within  me,  and  at  the  same  time  see  the  whole  face  of  nature 
recovered  out  of  the  dark  uncomfortable  state  in  which  it  lay 
for  several  hours,  my  heart  overflows  with  such  secret  senti- 
ments of  joy  and  gratitude,  as  are  a  kind  of  implicit  praise  to 
the  great  author  of  nature.     The  mind,  in  these  early  seasons 
of  the  day,  is  so  refreshed  in  all  its  faculties,  and  borne  up  with 
such  new  supplies  of  animal  spirits,  that  she  finds  herself  in  a 
state  of  youth,  especially  when   she  is  entertained  with  the 
breath  of  flowers,  the  melody  of  birds,  the  dews  that  hang  upon 
the   plants,  and   all   those  other   sweets  of  nature   that   are 
peculiar  to  the  morning. 

It  is  impossible  for  a  man  to  have  this  relish  of  being,  this 
exquisite  taste  of  life,  who  does  not  come  into  the  world  before 
it  is  in  all  its  noise  and  hurry ;  who  loses  the  rising  of  the 
sun,  the  still  hours  of  the  day,  and,  immediately  upon  Jiis  first 
getting  up,  plunges  himself  into  the  ordinary  cares  or  follies  of 
the  world. 


460  THE    TATLER.  [Xo.  263. 

JOUENAL  OF  THE  COURT  OF  HONOUR. 

Continued. 

No.  265.     TUESDAY,  December  19,  1710.     [Addisox.] 

Arljiter  liic  igitiir  factus  de  lite  jocosii. 

Ovid.  Met.  iii.  331. 

Him  therefore  they  create 


The  sov'reign  umpire  of  their  droll  debate. 

As  soon  as  the  Court  was  sat,  the  ladies  of  the  bench  pre- 
sented, accordmg  to  order,  a  table  of  all  the  laws  now  in  force  re- 
lating to  visits  and  visiting-days,  methodically  digested  nnder 
their  respective  heads,  which  the  Censor  ordered  to  be  laid  npon 
the  table,  and  afterwards  proceeded  npon  the  business  of  the  day. 

Henry  Heedless,  esquire,  was  indicted  by  colonel  Touchy 
of  her  majesty's  trained-bands,  upon  an  action  of  assault  and 
battery ;  for  that  he,  the  said  Mr.  Heedless,  having  espied  a 
feather  upon  the  shoulder  of  the  said  colonel,  struck  it  off 
gently  with  the  end  of  a  walking-staff,  value  three-pence.  It 
appeared,  that  the  prosecutor  did  not  think  himself  injured 
until  a  few  days  after  the  aforesaid  blow  was  given  him  ;  but 
that  having  ruminated  with  himself  for  several  days,  and  con- 
ferred upon  it  with  other  officers  of  the  militia,  he  concluded, 
that  he  had  in  effect  been  cudgelled  by  Mr.  Heedless,  and  that 
he  ought  to  resent  it  accordingly.  The  counsel  for  the  pro- 
secutor alleged,  that  the  shoulder  was  the  tendcrest  part  in  a 
man  of  honour ;  that  it  had  a  natural  antipathy  to  a  stick  ; 
and  that  every  touch  of  it,  with  any  thing  made  in  the  fashion 
of  a  cane,  was  to  l)e  interpreted  as  a  wound  in  that  part,  and 
a  violation  of  the  person's  honour  who  received  it.  Mr.  Heed- 
less replied,  "  that  what  he  had  done  was  out  of  kindness  to 
the  prosecutor,  as  not  thinking  it  proper  for  him  to  appear 
at  the  head  of  the  trained-bands  with  a  feather  upon  his 
shoulder  ;  "  and  farther  added,  "■  that  the  stick  he  made  use  of 
on  this  occasion  was  so  very  small,  that  the  prosecutor  could 
not  have  felt  it  had  he  broken  it  on  his  shoulders."     The 


Xo.  2G5.]     riU)CEEDIXGS    OF   THE   COURT    OF   IIOXOUK.      461 

Censor  hereupon  directed  the  jury  to  examine  into  tlic  nature 
of  the  staff,  for  that  a  great  deal  would  depend  upon  that 
particular.  Upon  which  he  explained  to  them  the  different 
degrees  of  offence  that  might  be  given  by  the  touch  of  the 
crab-tree  from  that  of  cane,  and  by  the  touch  of  cane  from 
that  of  a  plain  hazle  stick.  The  jury,  after  a  short  perusal  of 
the  staff,  declared  their  opinion  by  the  mouth  of  their  foreman, 
"  that  the  substance  of  the  staff  was  British  oak."  The  Cen- 
sor then  observing  that  there  was  some  dust  on  the  skirts  of 
the  criminal's  coat,  ordered  the  prosecutor  to  beat  it  off  with 
the  aforesaid  oaken  plant  ;  '*  and  thus,"  said  the  Censor,  "  I 
shall  decide  this  cause  by  the  law  of  retaliation.  If  Mr. 
Heedless  did  the  colonel  a  good  office,  the  colonel  will  by  this 
means  return  it  in  kind  ;  but  if  Mr.  Heedless  should  at  any 
time  boast  that  he  had  cudgelled  the  colonel,  or  laid  his  staff 
over  his  shoulders,  the  colonel  might  boast,  in  his  turn,  that 
he  has  brushed  Mr.  Heedless's  jacket,  or,  to  use  the  phrase  of 
an  ingenious  author,  that  he  has  rubbed  him  down  with  an 
oaken  towel." 

Benjamin  Busy  of  London,  merchant,  was  indicted  by  Jasper 
Tattle,  esquire,  for  having  pulled  out  his  watch,  and  looked 
upon  it  thrice,  while  the  said  esquire  Tattle  was  giving  him 
an  account  of  the  funeral  of  the  said  esquire  Tattle's  first  wife. 
The  prisoner  alleged  in  his  defence,  that  he  was  going  to  buy 
stocks  at  the  time  when  he  met  the  prosecutor  ;  and  that, 
during  the  story  of  the  prosecutor,  the  said  stocks  rose  above 
two  ^;e/"  cent,  to  the  great  detriment  of  the  prisoner.  The 
prisoner  farther  brought  several  witnesses  to  prove,  that  the 
said  Jasper  Tattle,  esquire,  was  a  most  notorious  story-teller  ; 
that,  before  he  met  the  prisoner,  he  had  hindered  one  of  the 
prisoner's  acquaintance  from  the  pursuit  of  his  lawful  business, 
with  the  account  of  his  second  marriage  ;  and  that  he  had 
detained  another  by  the  button  of  his  coat,  that  very  morning 
until  he  had  heard  several  witty  sayings  and  contrivances  of 
the  prosecutor's  eldest  son,  who  was  a  boy  of  about  five  years 
of  age.  Upon  the  whole  matter,  j\Ir.  BickerstafI"  dismissed 
the  accusation  as  frivolous,  and  sentenced  the  prosecutor  ''  to 


462  THE    TATLEPx.  [Xo.  265. 

pay  damages  to  the  prisoner,  for  what  the  prisoner  had  lost  by 
giving  him  so  long  and  patient  a  hearing."  He  farther 
re})rimanded  the  prosecutor  very  severely,  and  told  him,  "  that 
if  he  proceeded  in  his  usual  manner  to  interrupt  the  business 
of  mankind,  he  would  set  a  fine  upon  him  for  every  quarter  of 
an  hour's  impertinence,  and  regulate  the  said  fine  according  as 
the  time  of  the  person  so  injured  should  appear  to  be  more  or 
less  precious." 

Sir  Paul  Swash,  knight,  was  indicted  by  Peter  Double, 
gentleman,  for  not  returning  the  bow  which  he  received  of  the 
said  Peter  Double,  on  Wednesday  the  sixth  instant,  at  the 
play-house  in  the  Haymarket.  The  prisoner  denied  the 
receipt  of  any  such  bow,  and  alleged  in  his  defence,  that  the 
prosecutor  would  oftentimes  look  full  in  his  face,  but  that 
when  he  bowed  to  the  said  prosecutor,  he  would  take  no 
notice  of  it,  or  bow  to  somebody  else  that  sat  quite  on  the 
other  side  of  him.  He  likewise  alledged,  that  several  ladies 
had  complained  of  the  prosecutor,  who,  after  ogling  them  a 
quarter  of  an  hour,  upon  their  making  a  courtesy  to  him, 
would  not  return  the  civility  of  a  bow.  The  Censor  observing 
several  glances  of  the  prosecutor's  eye,  and  perceiving  that 
when  he  talked  to  the  court  he  looked  upon  the  jury,  found 
reason  to  suspect  there  was  a  wrong  cast  in  his  sight,  which, 
upon  examination,  proved  true.  The  Censor  therefore  ordered 
the  prisoner,  that  he  might  not  produce  any  more  confusions 
in  public  assemblies,  "  never  to  bow  to  any  body  whom  he  did 
not  at  the  same  time  call  to  by  name." 

Oliver  Bluff  and  Benjamin  Browbeat  were  indicted  for 
going  to  fight  a  duel  since  the  erection  of  "The  Court  of 
Honour."  It  appeared,  that  they  were  both  taken  up  in  the 
street  as  they  passed  by  the  Court  in  their  way  to  the  fields 
behind  Montague-house.  The  criminals  would  answer 
nothing  for  themselves,  but  that  they  were  going  to  execute 
a  challenge  which  had  been  made  a  week  before  the  "  Court 
of  Honour  "  was  erected.  The  Censor  finding  some  reason  to 
suspect,  by  the  sturdiness  of  their  behaviour,  that  they  were 
not  so  very  brave  as  they  would  have  the  court  believe  them, 


Xo.  '260.]  GROWING    OLD.  463 

ordered  them  both  to  be  searched  by  the  grand  jury,  who 
found  a  breast-plate  npon  the  one,  and  two  quh'cs  of  paper 
upon  the  other.  The  breast-plate  was  immediately  ordered  to 
be  hung-  upon  a  peg  over  Mr.  Bickerstaff's  tribunal,  and  the 
paper  to  be  laid  upon  the  tal)lc  for  the  use  of  his  clerk.  He 
then  ordered  the  criminals  to  button  up  their  bosoms,  and,  if 
they  pleased,  proceed  to  their  duel.  Upon  which  they  both 
went  very  quietly  out  of  the  court,  and  retired  to  their 
respective  lodgings. 


ON  CxPiOWIXG  OLD. 

Xo.  266.    THURSDAY,  December  21,  1710.     [Steele.] 

Eicleat  et  piiLset  lasciva  decentius  retas. 

HoR.  2  Ep.  ii.  ult. 

Let  youth,  more  deceut  in  tlieir  follies,  scoff 
The  nauseous  scene,  and  liiss  thee  i-eeling  off. 

It  would  be  a  good  appendix  to  "  The  art  of  Living  and 
Dying,"  if  any  one  would  write  ''  The  Art  of  growing  Old,"  and 
teach  men  to  resign  their  pretensions  to  the  pleasures  and  gal- 
lantries of  youth,  in  proportion  to  the  alteration  they  find  in 
themselves  by  the  approach  of  age  and  infirmities.  The  in- 
firmities of  this  stage  of  hfe  would  be  much  fewer,  if  we  did 
not  affect  those  which  attend  the  more  vigorous  and  active  part 
of  our  days  ;  but  instead  of  studying  to  be  wiser,  or  being  con- 
tented with  our  present  follies,  the  ambition  of  many  of  us  is 
also  to  be  the  same  sort  of  fools  we  formerly  have  been.  I  have 
often  argued,  as  I  am  a  professed  lover  of  women,  that  our  sex 
grows  old  with  a  much  worse  grace  than  the  other  does  ;  and 
have  ever  been  of  opinion,  that  there  are  more  well-pleased  old 
women,  than  old  men.  I  thought  it  a  good  reason  for  this,  that 
the  ambition  of  the  fair  sex  being  confined  to  advantageous 
marriages,  or  shining  in  the  eyes  of  men,  their  parts  were  over 
sooner,  and  consequently  the  errors  in  the  performance  of  them. 


461  THE    TATLEH.  [Xo.  266. 

The  conversation  of  this  evening  has  not  convinced  me  of  the 
contrary  ;  for  one  or  two  fop-women  shall  not  make  a  balance 
for  the  crowds  of  coxcombs  among  ourselves,  diversified 
according  to  the  different  pursuits  of  pleasure  and  business. 

Returning  home  this  evening  a  little  before  my  usual  hour, 
I  scarce  had  seated  myself  in  my  easy  chair,  stirred  the  fire, 
and  stroked  my  cat,  but  I  heard  somebody  come  rumbling  up 
stairs.  I  saw  my  door  opened,  and  a  human  figure  advancing 
towards  me,  so  fantastically  put  together,  that  it  was  some 
minutes  before  I  discovered  it  to  be  my  old  and  intimate  friend 
Sam  Trusty.  Immediately  I  rose  up,  and  placed  him  in  my 
own  seat  ;  a  compliment  I  pay  to  few.  The  first  thing  ho 
uttered  was,  "  Isaac,  fetch  me  a  cup  of  your  cherry-brandy 
before  you  offer  to  ask  any  question."  He  drank  a  lusty 
draught,  sat  silent  for  some  time,  and  at  last  broke  out  ;  *'I  am 
come,"  quoth  he,  "  to  insult  thee  for  an  old  fantastic  dotard,  as 
thou  art,  in  ever  defending  the  women.  I  have  this  evening 
visited  two  widows,  who  are  now  in  that  state  I  have  often 
heard  you  call  an  after-life;  I  suppose  you  mean  by  it,  an 
existence  which  grows  out  of  past  entertainments,  and  is  an 
untimely  delight  in  the  satisfactions  which  they  once  set  their 
hearts  upon  too  much  to  be  ever  able  to  relinquish.  Have  but 
patience,"  continued  he,  ^'  until  I  give  you  a  succinct  account 
of  my  ladies,  and  of  this  night's  adventure.  They  are  much  of 
an  age,  but  very  different  in  their  characters.  The  one  of 
them,  with  all  the  advances  which  years  have  made  upon  her, 
goes  on  in  a  certain  romantic  road  of  love  and  friendship  which 
she  fell  into  in  her  teens  ;  the  other  has  transferred  the  amorous 
passions  of  her  first  years  to  the  love  of  cronies,  petts,  and 
favourites,  with  which  she  is  always  surrounded ;  but  the 
genius  of  each  of  them  will  best  appear  by  the  account  of  what 
happened  to  me  at  their  houses.  About  five  this  afternoon, 
being  tired  with  study,  the  weather  inviting,  and  time  lying  a 
little  upon  my  hands,  I  resolved  at  the  instigation  of  my  evil 
genius,  to  visit  them  ;  their  husbands  having  been  our  contem- 
poraries. This  I  thought  I  could  do  without  much  trouble  ; 
for  both  live  in  the  very  next  street.     I  went  first  to  my  lady 


No.  2GG.]  GriO^YIXG    OLD.  465 

Camomile;  and  the  butler,  who  had  lived  lonj^-  ia  the  family, 
and  seen  me  often  in  his  master's  time,  ushered  me  very  civilly 
into  the  parlour,  and  told  me,  though  my  lady  had  given  strict 
orders  to  be  denied,  he  was  sure  I  might  be  admitted,  and  bid 
the  black  boy  acquaint  his  lady,  that  I  was  come  to  wait  upon 
her.  In  the  window  lay  two  letters,  one  broke  open,  the  other 
fresh  sealed  with  a  wafer  :  the  first  directed  to  the  divine 
Cosmelia,  the  second  to  the  charming  Lucinda  ;  but  both  by 
the  indented  characters,  appeared  to  have  been  writ  by  very 
unsteady  hands.  Such  uncommon  addresses  increased  my 
curiosity,  and  put  me  upon  asking  my  old  friend  the  butler,  if 
he  knew  who  those  persons  were  ?  "  Very  well,"  says  he,  "this 
is  from  Mrs.  Furbish  to  my  lad}',  an  old  school-fellow  and  a 
great  crony  of  her  ladyship's  ;  and  this  the  answer."  I  enquired 
in  what  country  she  lived.  "Oh  dear!"  says  he,  "  but  just 
by,  in  the  neighbourhood.  Why,  she  was  here  all  this  morn- 
ing, and  that  letter  came  and  was  answered  within  these  two 
hours.  They  have  taken  an  odd  fancy,  you  must  know,  to  call 
one  another  hard  names  ;  but,  for  all  that,  they  love  one 
another  hugely."  By  this  time  the  boy  returned  with  his  lady's 
humble  service  to  me,  desiring  I  would  excuse  her  ;  for  she 
could  not  possibly  see  me,  nor  any  body  else,  for  it  was  opera- 
night." 

" Methinks,"  says  I,  "such  innocent  folly  as  two  old  women's 
courtship  to  each  other,  should  rather  make  you  merry  than 
put  you  out  of  humour."  "  Peace,  good  Isaac,"  says  he,  "  no 
interruption,  I  beseech  you.  I  got  soon  to  Mrs.  Feeble's,  she 
that  was  formerly  Betty  Frisk  ;  you  must  needs  remember 
her  ;  Tom  Feeble  of  Brazen  Nose  fell  in  love  with  her  for  her 
fine  dancing.  "Well,  Mrs.  Ursula,  without  farther  ceremony, 
carries  me  directly  up  to  her  mistress's  chamber,  where  I 
found  her  environed  by  four  of  the  most  mischievous  animals 
that  can  ever  infest  a  family  ;  an  old  shock  dog  with  one  eye, 
a  monkey  chained  to  one  side  of  the  chimney,  a  great  grey 
squirrel  to  the  other,  and  a  parrot  waddling  in  the  middle  of 
the  room.  However,  for  a  while,  all  was  in  a  profound  tran- 
quillity.    Upon  the  mantle-tree,  for  I  am  a  pretty  curious 


466  THE    TATLER.  [Xo.  2GG. 

observer,  stood  a  pot  of  lambetive  electuary,  with  a  stick  of 
liquorice,  and  near  it  a  phial  of  rose-water,  and  powder  of 
tutty.     Upon   the   table   lay  a  pipe  filled  with   betony   and 
colt's  foot,  a  roll  of  wax-candle,  a  silver  spitting-pot,  and  a 
Seville  orange.     The  lady  was  placed  in  a  large  wicker-chair, 
and  her  feet  wrapped  up  in  flannel,  supported  by  cushions  ;  and 
in  this  attitude,  would  you  believe  it,  Isaac,  was  she  reading  a 
romance  with  spectacles  on.     The  first  compliments  over,  as  she 
was  industriously  endeavouring  to  enter  upon  conversation,  a 
violent  fit  of  coughing  seized  her.     This  awaked  Shock,  and  in 
a  trice  the  whole  room  was  in  an  uproar  ;  for  the  dog  barked,  the 
squirrel  squealed,  the  monkey  chattered,  the  parrot  screamed, 
and  Ursula,  to  appease  them,  was  more  clamorous  than  all 
the  rest.     You,  Isaac,  who  know  how  any  harsh  noise  affects 
my  head,  may  guess  what  I  suffered  from  the  hideous  din  of 
these  discordant  sounds.     At  length   all  was  appeased,  and 
quiet  restored :  a  chair  was  drawn  for  me  ;  where  I  was  no 
sooner  seated,  but  the  parrot  fixed  his  horny  beak,  as  sharp  as 
a  pair  of  sheers,  in  one  of  my  heels,  just  above  the  shoe.     I 
sprung  from  the  place  with  an  unusual  agility,  and  so,  being 
within  the  monkey's  reach,  he  snatches  off  my  new  bob-wig, 
and  throws  it  upon  two  apples  that  were  roasting  by  a  sullen 
sea-coal  fire.     I  was  nimble  enough  to  save  it  from  any  farther 
damage  than  singing  the  foretop.     I  put  it  on  ;  and  composing 
myself  as  well  as  I  could,  I  drew  my  chair  towards  the  other 
side  of  the  chimney.      The  good  lady,  as  soon  as  she  had  re-  • 
covered  breath,  employed  it  in  making  a  thousand  apologies, 
and,  with  great  eloquence,  and  a  numerous  train  of  words, 
lamented  my  misfortune.      In  the  middle  of  her  harangue,  I 
felt  something  scratching  near  my  knee,  and  feeling  what  it 
should  be,  found  the  squirrel  had  got  into  my  coat-pocket     As 
I  endeavoured  to  remove  him  from  his  burrow,  he  made  his 
teeth  meet  through  the  fleshy  part  of  my  forefinger.       This 
gave   me  an  unexpressible  pain.      The  Hungary  water  was 
immediately  brought  to  bathe  it,  and  gold-beaters'  skin  applied 
to  stop  the  blood.      The  lady  renewed  her  excuses  ;  but  being 
now  out  of  all  patience,  I  abruptly  took  my  leave,  and  hobbling 


No.  267.]  LORD    VERrLA:^[\S    PRAYER.  467 

down  stairs  with  heedless  haste,  I  set  my  foot  full  in  a  pail  of 
water,  and  down  we  came  to  the  bottom  together."  Here  my 
friend  concluded  his  narrative,  and,  with  a  composed  counte- 
nance, I  began  to  make  him  compliments  of  condolence  ;  but 
he  started  from  his  chair,  and  said,  "  Isaac,  you  may  spare 
your  speeches,  I  expect  no  reply.  When  I  told  you  this,  I 
knew  you  would  laugh  at  me  ;  but  the  next  woman  that  makes 
me  ridiculous  shall  be  a  young  one." 


LORD  VEEULAM'S  PRAYER. 

No.  207.     SATURDAY,  December  2-3,  1710.      [.\ddisox.] 

Qui  genu.s  humanum  ingenio  sui^eravit,  et  omnes 
Restinxit  .stellas,  exortus  uti  aerius  sol.         LucR,  iii.  1056. 

His  geniu.s  quite  obscur'tl  the  brightest  ray 
Of  human  thought  ;  as  Sol'.s  effulgent  beams, 
At  morn's  approach,  extinguish  all  the  stars. 

I  HAVE  heard  that  it  is  a  rule  among  the  conventuals  of 
several  orders  in  the  Romish  church  to  shut  themselves  up  at 
a  certain  time  of  the  year,  not  only  from  the  world  in  general, 
but  from  the  members  of  their  own  fraternity  ;  and  to  pass 
away  several  days  by  themselves  in  settling  accounts  between 
their  Maker  and  their  own  souls,  in  canceling  nnrepented 
crimes,  and  renewing  their  contracts  of  obedience  for  the 
future.  Such  stated  times  for  particular  acts  of  devotion,  or 
the  exercise  of  certain  religious  duties,  have  been  enjoined  in 
all  civil  governments,  whatever  deity  they  worshipped,  or 
whatever  religion  they  professed.  That  which  may  be  done  at 
all  times,  is  often  totally  neglected  and  forgotten,  unless  fixed 
and  determined  to  some  time  more  than  another  ;  and,  there- 
fore, though  several  duties  may  be  suitable  to  every  day  of  our 
lives,  they  are  most  likely  to  be  performed,  if  some  days  arc 
more  particularly  set  apart  for  the  practice  of  them.  Our 
church  has  accordingly  instituted  several  features  of  devotion. 


468  THE    TATLER.  [No.  2G7. 

when  time,  custom,  prescription,  and,  if  I  may  so  say,  the 
fashion  itself,  call  upon  a  man  to  be  serious,  and  attentive  to 
the  great  end  of  his  being. 

I  have  hinted  in  some  former  papers,  that  the  greatest  and 
wisest  of  men  in  all  ages  and  countries,  particularly  in  Kome 
and  Greece,  were  renowned  for  their  piety  and  virtue.  It  is 
now  my  intention  to  shew,  how  those  in  our  own  nation,  that 
have  been  unquestionably  the  most  eminent  for  learning  and 
knowledge,  were  likewise  the  most  eminent  for  their  adherence 
to  the  religion  of  their  country, 

I  might  produce  very  shining  examples  from  among  the 
clergy  ;  but  because  priest-craft  is  the  common  cry  of  every 
cavilling,  empty  scribbler,  I  shall  shew  that  all  the  laymen 
who  have  exerted  a  more  than  ordinary  genius  in  their 
writings,  and  were  the  glory  of  their  times,  were  men  whose 
hopes  were  filled  \vith  immortality,  and  the  prospect  of  future 
rewards,  and  men  who  lived  in  a  dutiful  submission  to  all  the 
doctrines  of  revealed  religion. 

I  shall,  in  this  paper,  only  instance  sir  Francis  Bacon,  a  man 
who,  for  greatness  of  genius,  and  compass  of  knowledge,  did 
honour  to  his  age  and  country  ;  I  could  almost  say  to  human 
nature  itself.  He  possessed  at  once  all  those  extraordinary 
talents,  which  were  divided  amongst  the  greatest  authors  of 
antiquity.  He  had  the  sound,  distinct,  comprehensive  know- 
ledge of  Aristotle,  with  all  the  beautiful  hghts,  graces,  and 
embellishments  of  Cicero.  One  does  not  know  which  to 
admire  most  in  his  writings,  the  strength  of  reason,  force  of 
style,  or  brightness  of  imagination. 

The  author  has  remarked  in  several  parts  of  his  works,  that 
a  thorough  insight  into  philosophy  makes  a  good  believer,  and 
that  a  smattering  in  it  naturally  produces  such  a  race  of  de- 
spicable infidels  as  the  little  profligate  writers  of  the  present 
age,  whom,  I  must  confess,  I  have  always  accused  to  myself, 
not  so  much  for  their  w^ant  of  fliith  as  their  want  of  learning. 

I  was  infinitely  pleased  to  find,  among  the  works  of  this 
extraordinary  man,  a  prayer  of  his  own  composing,  which,  for 
the  elevation  of  thought,  and  greatness  of  expression,  seems 


No.  207.]  LOPtD    VEllCLAM'.s    PRAYER.  469 

rather  the  devotion  of  an  angel  than  a  man.  ITis  principal 
fault  seems  to  have  been  the  excess  of  that  virtue  which  covers 
a  multitude  of  faults.  This  betrayed  him  to  so  great  an 
indulgence  towards  his  servants,  who  made  a  corrupt  use  of  it, 
that  it  stripped  him  of  all  those  riches  and  honours  which  a 
long  series  of  merits  had  heaped  upon  him.  But  in  this 
prayer,  at  the  same  time  that  we  find  him  prostrating  himself 
before  the  great  mercy-seat,  and  humbled  under  afflictions, 
which  at  that  time  lay  heavy  upon  him,  we  see  him  supported 
by  the  sense  of  his  integrity,  his  zeal  ,his  devotion,  and  his  love 
to  mankind  ;  which  give  him  a  much  higher  figure  in  the 
minds  of  thinking  men,  than  that  greatness  had  done  from 
which  he  was  fallen.  I  shall  beg  leave  to  write  down"  the 
prayer  itself,  with  the  title  with  it,  as  it  was  found  amongst 
his  lordship's  papers,  written  in  his  own  hand  ;  not  being  able 
to  furnish  my  readers  with  an  entertainment  more  suitable  to 
this  solemn  time. 

"  A  Prayer^  or  Psalm,  made  ly  my  Lord  Bacon,  Chancellor  oj 

England. 

"  Most  gracious  Lord  God,  my  merciful  Father  ;  from  my 
youth  up  my  Creator,  my  Eedeemer,  my  Comforter.  Thou,  0 
Lord,  soundest  and  searchest  the  depths  and  secrets  of  all 
hearts ;  thou  acknowledgest  the  upright  of  heart  ;  thoa 
judgest  the  hyprocrite  ;  thou  ponderest  men's  thoughts  and 
doings  as  in  a  balance  ;  thou  measurest  their  intentions  as 
with  a  line  ;  vanity  and  crooked  ways  cannot  be  hid  from 
thee. 

"  Remember,  0  Lord  !  how  thy  servant  hath  walked  before 
thee  ;  remember  what  I  have  first  sought,  and  what  hath  been 
principal  in  my  intentions.  I  have  loved  thy  assemblies,  I 
have  mourned  for  the  divisions  of  thy  church,  I  have  delighted 
in  the  brightness  of  thy  sanctuary.  This  vine,  which  tin- 
right-hand  hath  planted  in  this  nation,  I  have  ever  prayed 
unto  thee  that  it  might  have  the  first  and  the  latter  rain,  and 
that  it  might  stretch  her  branches  to  the  seas,  and  to  the 


470  THE    TATLEE.  [Xo.  267. 

floods.  The  state  and  bread  of  tlie  poor  and  oppressed  have 
been  precious  in  mine  eyes  ;  I  have  hated  all  cruelty  and 
hardness  of  heart  ;  I  have,  though  in  a  despised  weed,  pro- 
cured the  good  of  all  men.  If  any  have  been  my  enemies,  I 
thought  not  of  them,  neither  hath  the  sun  almost  set  upon  my 
displeasure  ;  but  I  have  been,  as  a  dove,  free  from  superfluity 
of  maliciousness.  Thy  creatures  have  been  my  books,  but  thy 
scriptures  much  more.  I  have  sought  thee  in  the  courts,  fields, 
and  gardens  ;  but  I  have  found  thee  in  thy  temples. 

'' Thousands  have  been  my  sins,  and  ten  thousands  my 
transgressions,  but  tliy  sanctifications  have  remained  with  me, 
and  my  heart,  through  thy  grace,  hath  been  an  unquenched 
coal  upon  thine  altar. 

"  0  Lord,  my  strength  !  I  have  since  my  youth  met  Avith 
thee  in  all  my  ways,  by  thy  fatherly  compassions,  by  thy  com- 
fortable chastisements,  and  by  thy  most  visible  providence. 
As  thy  favours  have  increased  upon  me,  so  have  thy  correc- 
tions ;  so  as  thou  hast  been  always  near  me,  0  Lord  !  and 
eyer  as  my  worldly  blessings  were  exalted,  so  secret  darts 
from  thee  have  pierced  me  ;  and  when  I  have  ascended 
before  men,  I  have  descended  in  humiliation  before  thee.  And 
now,  when  I  thought  most  of  peace  and  honour,  thy  hand  is 
heavy  upon  me,  and  hath  humbled  me  according  to  thy  former 
loving-kindness,  keeping  me  still  in  thy  fatherly  school,  not  as 
a  bastard,  but  as  a  child.  Just  are  thy  judgments  upon 
me  for  my  sins,  which  are  more  in  number  than  the  sands  of 
the  sea,  but  have  no  proportion  to  thy  mercies  :  for  what  are 
the  sands  of  the  sea  ?  Earth,  lieayens,  and  all  these,  are 
nothing  to  thy  mercies.  Besides  my  innumerable  sins,  I  con- 
fess before  thee,  that  I  am  debtor  to  thee  for  the  gracious 
talent  of  thy  gifts  and  graces,  which  I  have  neither  put  into  a 
napkin,  nor  put  it,  as  I  ought,  to  exchangers,  where  it  might 
have  made  best  profit,  but  mispent  it  in  things  for  which  I  was 
least  fit :  so  I  may  truly  say  my  soul  hath  been  a  stranger  in 
the  course  of  my  pilgrimage.  Be  merciful  unto  me,  0  Lord, 
for  my  Saviour's  sake,  and  receive  me  unto  thy  ])osom,  or 
guide  me  in  thy  ways." 


No.  270.]  ON    SUITABLE    ATTIRE.  471 

ON  SUITABLE  ATTIllE. 

No.  270.    SATURDAY,  December  30,  17lu.     [Steele.] 

Cum  pulchris  tunicis  sumet  nova  consilia  et  spes. 

IIuR.  1  Ep.  xviii.  33. 

In  gaj'  attire  wlicn  the  vain  coxcomb's  drest, 
Strange  Lopes  and  projects  fill  his  labouring  breast. 

According  to  my  late  resolution,  I  take  the  holidays  to  be 
no  improper  season  to  entertain  the  town  with  the  addresses  of 
my  correspondents.  In  my  walks  every  day,  there  appear  all 
round  me  very  great  offenders  in  the  point  of  dress.  An 
armed  taylor  had  the  impudence  yesterday  in  the  Park  to 
smile  in  my  face,  and  pull  off  a  laced  hat  to  me,  as  it  were  in 
contempt  of  my  authority  and  censure.  However,  it  is  a  very 
great  satisfaction  that  other  people,  as  well  as  myself,  are 
offended  with  these  improprieties.  The  following  notices, 
from  persons  of  different  sexes  and  qualities,  are  a  sufficient 
instance  how  useful  my  Lucubrations  are  to  the  public. 

"  Jack's  Coffee-house,  near  CTuildhall,  Dec.  27. 
"  Cousin  BiCKERSTAFF, 

"It  has  been  the  peculiar  blessing  of  our  family  to  be  always 
above  the  smiles  or  frowns  of  fortune,  and,  by  a  certain 
greatness  of  mind,  to  restrain  all  irregular  fondness  or  passions. 
From  hence  it  is,  that  though  a  long  decay,  and  a  numerous 
descent,  liave  obliged  many  of  our  house  to  fall  into  the  arts  of 
trade  and  business,  no  one  person  of  us  has  ever  made  an 
appearance  that  betrayed  our  being  unsatisfied  with  our  own 
station  in  life,  or  has  ever  affected  a  mien  or  gesture  unsuit- 
able to  us. 

"You  have  up  and  doAvn  in  your  writings  very  justly  re- 
marked, that  it  is  not  this  or  the  other  profession  or  quality 
among  men  that  gives  us  honour  or  esteem,  but  the  well  or  ill 

I  I 


472  THE    TATLER.  [Xo.  270. 

behaving  ourselves  in  those  characters.  It  is,  therefore,  with 
no  small  concern,  that  I  behold  in  coffee-houses  and  public 
places  my  brethren,  the  tradesmen  of  this  city,  put  off  the 
smooth,  even,  and  ancient  decorum  of  thriving  citizens,  for  a 
fantastical  dress  and  figure,  improper  for  their  persons  and 
characters,  to  the  utter  destruction  of  that  order  and  distinc- 
tion, which  of  right  ought  to  be  between  St.  James's  and  Milk 
Street,  The  Camp  and  Cheapside. 

"  I  have  given  myself  some  time  to  find  out  how  distin- 
guishing the  frays  in  a  lot  of  muslins,  or  drawing  up  a 
regiment  of  thread  laces,  or  making  a  panegyric  on  pieces 
of  fagathy  or  Scotch  plaid,  should  entitle  a  man  to  a  laced  hat 
or  sword,  a  wig  tied  up  with  ribbands,  or  an  embroidered  coat. 
The  college  say,  this  enormity  proceeds  from  a  sort  of  delirium 
in  the  brain,  which  makes  it  break  out  first  about  the  head, 
and,  for  want  of  timely  remedies,  fall  upon  the  left  thigh,  and 
from  thence,  in  little  mazes  and  windings,  run  over  the 
whole  body,  as  appears  by  pretty  ornaments  on  the  buttons, 
button-holes,  garterings,  sides  of  the  breeches,  and  the  like. 
I  beg  the  favour  of  you  to  give  us  a  discoui-se  wholly  upon  the 
subject  of  habits,  which  will  contribute  to  the  better  govern- 
ment of  conversation  among  us,  and  in  particular  obhge,  sir, 
your  affectionate  cons  if  i, 

"  Felix  Tranquillus." 

*'  To  Isaac  Bickerstaff,  Esquire,  Censor  of  Great-Britain. 

"  The  humble  petition  of  Ralph  Nab,  Haberdasher  of  Hats, 
and  many  other  poor  sufferers  of  the  same  trade, 

"  Sheweth, 
"  That  for  some  years  last  past  the  use  of  gold  and  silver 
galloon  upon  hats  has  been  almost  universal ;  being  undistin- 
guishably  worn  by  soldiers,  esquires,  lords,  footmen,  beaux, 
sportsmen,  traders,  clerks,  prigs,  smarts,  cullies,  pretty  fellows, 
and  sharpers. 

"  That  the  said  use  and  custom  has  been  two  ways  very  preju- 


Xo.  270.]  OX    SUITABLE    ATTlllE.  473 

dicial  to  your  petitioners.  First,  in  that  it  has  induced  men, 
to  the  o'l'cat  damage  of  your  petitioners,  to  wear  their  hats  upon 
their  heads  ;  by  which  means  the  said  hats  last  much  longer 
whole,  than  they  would  do  if  worn  under  their  arms.  Secondly, 
in  that  very  often  a  new  dressing  and  a  new  lace  supply  the 
place  of  a  new  hat,  which  grievance  we  are  chiefly  sensible  of 
in  the  spring-time,  when  the  company  is  leaving  the  town  ;  it 
so  happening  commonly,  that  a  hat  shall  frequent,  all  winter, 
the  finest  and  best  assemblies  without  any  ornament  at  all,  and 
in  May  shall  be  tricked  up  with  gold  or  silver,  to  keep  com- 
pany with  rustics,  and  ride  in  the  rain.  All  which  premisses 
your  petitioners  humbly  pray  you  to  take  into  your  considera- 
tion, and  either  to  appoint  a  day  in  your  Court  of  Honour, 
when  all  pretenders  to  the  galloon  may  enter  their  claims,  and 
have  them  approved  or  rejected,  or  to  give  us  such  other  re- 
lief as  to  your  great  wisdom  shall  seem  meet. 

"  And  your  petitioners,  &c." 

Order  my  friend  near  Temple-bar,  the  author  of  the  hunting- 
cock,  to  assist  the  court  when  this  petition  is  read,  of  which 
Mr.  Lillie  to  give  him  notice. 

"  To  Isaac  Bickerstaff,  Esquire,  Censor  of  Great-Britain. 

"  The  humble  petition  of  Elizabeth  Slender,  Spinster, 
"  Sheweth, 

That  on  the  twentieth  of  this  instant  December,  her 
friend,  Rebecca  Hive,  and  your  petitioner,  walking  in  the 
Strand,  saw  a  gentleman  before  us  in  a  gown,  whose  periwig 
was  so  long,  and  so  much  powdered,  that  your  petitioner  took 
notice  of,  and  said,  "she  wondered  that  a  lawyer  would  so  spoil 
a  new  gown  with  powder."  To  which  it  was  answered,  ''  that 
he  was  no  lawyer  but  a  clergyman."  Upon  a  wager  of  a  pot 
of  coffee  we  overtook  him,  and  your  petitioner  was  soon  con- 
vinced she  had  lost. 

"  Your  petitioner,  therefore,  desires  your  worship  to  cite  the 
clergyman  before  you,  and  to  settle  and  adjust  the  length  of 

I  r  2 


474  THE    TATLER.  [No.  270. 

canonical  periwigs,  and  the  quantity  of  powder  to  be  made 

nse  of  in  them,  and  to  give  such  other  directions  as  you  shall 

think  fit.  .    n  .  „ 

*'  And  your  petitioner,  &c. 

Query,  AVhether  this  gentleman  be  not  chaplain  to  a  regi- 
ment, and,  in  such  case,  allow  powder  accordingly? 

After  all  that  can  be  thought  on  these  subjects,  I  must 
confess,  that  the  men  who  dress  with  a  certain  ambition  to 
appear  more  than  they  are,  are  much  more  excusable  than 
those  who  betray,  in  the  adorning  their  persons,  a  secret 
vanity  and  inclination  to  shine  in  things,  wherein,  if  they  did 
succeed,  it  would  rather  lessen  than  advance  their  character. 
For  this  reason  I  am  more  provoked  at  the  allegations  relating 
to  the  clergyman,  than  any  other  hinted  at  in  these  complaints. 
I  have  indeed  a  long  time,  with  much  concern,  observed 
jjretty  fellows  in  sacred  orders,  and  shall  in  due  time  let  them 
know^,  that  I  pretend  to  give  ecclesiastical  as  well  as  civil 
censures.  A  man  well-bred  and  well  dressed  in  that  habit, 
adds  to  the  sacredness  of  his  function  an  asfreeableness  not 
to  be  met  with  among  the  laity.  I  own  I  have  spent  some 
evenings  among  the  men  of  wit  of  that  profession  with  an 
inexpressible  delight.  Their  habitual  care  of  their  character 
gives  such  a  chastisement  to  their  fancy,  that  all  which  they 
utter  in  company  is  as  much  above  what  you  meet  with  in 
other  conversation,  as  the  charms  of  a  modest,  are  superior 
to  those  of  a  light,  woman.  I  therefore  earnestly  desire  our 
young  missionaries  from  the  universities  to  consider  where 
they  are,  and  not  dress,  and  look,  and  move  like  young  officers. 
It  is  no  disadvantage  to  have  a  very  handsome  white  hand  : 
but,  were  I  to  preach  repentance  to  a  gallery  of  ladies,  I  w^ould, 
methinks,  keep  my  gloves  on.  I  have  an  unfeigned  affection 
to  the  class  of  mankind  appointed  to  serve  at  the  altar,  there- 
fore am  in  danger  of  running  out  of  my  way,  and  growing  too 
serious  on  this  occasion  ;  for  which  reason  I  shall  end  with 
the  following  epistle,  w^hich,  by  my  interest  in  Tom  Trot,  the 
penny-post,  I  procured  a  copy  of  : 


Xo.  271.]  END    OF    THE    TATLER.  475 

"  To  the  RuY.  Mr.  Kalph  Incense,  Chaplain  to  the  Coun- 
tess Dowager  of  Brumpton. 

Sir, 

"  I  heard  and  saw  jou  preach  last  Sunday.  I  am  an 
ignorant  young  woman,  and  understood  not  half  you  said  : 
but  ah  !  your  manner,  when  you  held  up  both  your  hands 
towards  our  pew !  Did  yon  design  to  win  me  to  Heaven  or 
yourself  ?    Your  humble  servant, 

"  Penitence  Gentle." 


END  OF  THE  TATLEE. 

No.  271.     TUESDAY,  January  2,  1710.     [Steele.]* 

The  printer  having  informed  me,  that  there  are  as  many 
of  these  papers  printed  as  will  make  four  volumes,  I  am  now 
come  to  the  end  of  my  ambition  in  this  matter,  and  have 
nothing  farther  to  say  to  the  world  under  the  character  of 
Isaac  BickerstafP.  This  work  has  indeed  for  some  time  been 
disagreeable  to  me,  and  the  purpose  of  it  wholly  lost  by  my 
beinsr  so  Ions:  understood  as  the  author.  I  never  desisrned  in 
it  to  give  any  man  any  secret  wound  by  my  concealment, 
but  spoke  in  the  character  of  an  old  man,  a  philosopher,  an 
humourist,  an  astrologer,  and  a  Censor,  to  allure  my  reader 
with  the  variety  of  my  subjects,  and  insinuate,  if  I  could,  the 
weight  of  reason  with  the  agreeableness  of  wit.  The  general 
purpose  of  the  whole  has  been  to  recommend  truth,  innocence, 

*  "Steele's  last  'Tatler'  came  out  to-day.  You  will  sec  it  before  this 
comes  to  you,  and  how  he  takes  leave  of  the  world.  He  never  told  so  much 
as  Addison  of  it,  who  was  surprized  as  much  as  I  ;  hut,  to  say  the  truth,  it 
was  time,  for  he  gi-ew  cruel  duU  and  dry.  To  my  knowledge  he  had  several 
good  hints  to  go  upon  ;  but  he  was  so  lazy  and  weary  of  the  work,  that  he 
would  not  improve  them." — Swift  to  Mth.  Johnson. 


476  THE    TATLEB.  [No.  271. 

honour,  and  virtue,  as  the  chief  ornaments  of  life  ;  but  I 
considered,  that  severity  of  manners  was  absolutely  necessary 
to  him  who  would  censure  others,  and  for  that  reason,  and  that 
only,  chose  to  talk  in  a  mask.  I  shall  not  carry  my  humility 
so  far  as  to  call  myself  a  vicious  man,  but  at  the  same  time 
must  confess,  my  life  is  at  best  but  pardonable.  And,  with 
no  greater  character  than  this,  a  man  would  make  but  an 
indifferent  progress  in  attacking  prevailing  and  fashionable 
vices,  which  Mr.  Bickerstaff  has  done  with  a  freedom  of  spirit, 
that  would  have  lost  both  its  beauty  and  efficacy,  had  it  been 
pretended  to  by  Mr.  Steele. 

As  to  the  work  itself,  the  acceptance  it  has  met  with  is  the 
best  proof  of  its  value  ;  but  I  should  err  against  that  candour, 
which  an  honest  man  should  always  carry  about  him,  if  I  did 
not  own,  that  the  most  approved  pieces  in  it  were  written  by 
others,  and  those  which  have  been  most  excepted  against,  by 
myself  The  hand  that  has  assisted  me  in  those  noble  dis- 
courses upon  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  the  glorious  prospects 
of  another  life,  and  the  most  sublime  ideas  of  religion  and 
virtue,  is  a  person  who  is  too  fondly  my  friend  ever  to  own 
them  ;  but  I  should  little  deserve  to  be  his,  if  I  usurped  the 
glory  of  them.*  I  must  acknowledge  at  the  same  time,  that 
I  think  the  finest  strokes  of  wit  and  humour  in  all  Mr.  Bicker- 
staff's  Lucubrations,  are  those  for  which  he  also  is  beholden 
to  him. 

As  for  the  satirical  part  of  these  writings,  those  against  the 
gentlemen  who  profess  gaming  are  the  most  licentious  ;  but 
the  main  of  them  I  take  to  come  from  losing  gamesters,  as 
invectives  against  the  fortunate  ;  for  in  very  many  of  them  I 
was  very  little  else  but  the  transcriber.  If  any  have  been 
more  particularly  marked  at,  such  persons  may  impute  it  to 
their  own  behaviour,  before  they  were  touched  upon,  in  pub- 
licly speaking  their  resentment  against  the  author,  and  pro' 
fessing  they  would  support  any  man  who  should  insult  him. 

*  Addison  was  the  assistant  here  alluded  to. 


Xo.  271.]  END    OF   THE    TATLER.  477 

When  I  mention  this  subject,  I  hope  major  general  Daven- 
port, brigadier  Bisset,  and  my  Lord  Forbes,  will  accept  of 
my  thanks  for  their  frequent  good  offices,  in  professing 
their  readiness  to  partake  any  danger  that  should  befall  me  in 
RO  just  an  undertaking,  as  the  endeavour  to  banish  fraud 
and  cozenage  from  the  presence  and  conversation  of  gentle- 
men. 

But  what  I  find  is  the  least  excusable  part  of  all  this  work 
is,  that  I  have,  in  some  places  in  it,  touched  upon  matters 
which  concern  both  Church  and  State.  All  I  shall  say  for  this 
is,  that  the  points  I  alluded  to,  are  such  as  concerned  every 
Christian  and  freeholder  in  England ;  and  I  could  not  be  cold 
enough  to  conceal  my  opinion  on  subjects  which  related  to 
either  of  those  characters.     But  politicks  apart. 

I  must  confess  it  has  been  a  most  exquisite  pleasure  to  me 
to  frame  characters  of  domestic  life,  and  put  those  parts  of  it 
which  are  least  observed  into  an  agreeable  view  ;  to  enquire 
into  the  seeds  of  vanity  and  affectation,  to  lay  before  the 
readers  the  emptiness  of  ambition  :  in  a  word,  to  trace  human 
life  through  all  its  mazes  and  recesses,  and  shew  much  shorter 
methods  than  men  ordinarily  practise,  to  be  happy,  agreeable, 
and  great. 

But  to  enquire  into  men's  faults  and  weaknesses  has  some- 
thing in  it  so  unwelcome,  that  I  have  often  seen  people  in  pain 
to  act  before  me,  whose  modesty  only  makes  them  think  them- 
selves liable  to  censure.  This,  and  a  thousand  other  nameless 
things,  have  made  it  an  irksome  task  to  me  to  personate  Mr. 
BickerstafP  any  longer  ;  and  I  believe  it  does  not  often 
happen,  that  the  reader  is  dehghted  where  the  author  is 
displeased. 

All  I  can  now  do  for  the  farther  gratification  of  the  town,  is 
to  give  them  a  faithful  explication  of  passages  and  allusions, 
and  sometimes  of  persons  intended  in  the  several  scattered 
parts  of  the  work.  At  the  same  time,  I  shall  discover  which 
of  the  whole  have  been  WTitten  by  me,  and  which  by  others, 
and  by  whom,  as  far  as  I  am  alle,  or  permitted. 


478  THE    TATLER.  [Xo.  271. 

Thus  I  have  vohmtarily  done,  what  I  think  all  authors 
should  do  when  called  upon.  I  have  published  my  name  to 
my  writings,  and  given  myself  up  to  the  mercy  of  the  town, 
as  Shakspeare  expresses  it,  "with  all  my  imperfections  on  my 
head."  The  indulgent  reader's  most  obliged,  most  obedient, 
humble  servant, 

Richard  Steele. 


THE    END. 


BRADBURY,    AQNEW,    &   CO.,    PRINTERS,    WHITEFRIARS 
W11419488222 


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